In the early morning, your face is a forest;
A safehaven for twenty-cent monster flick creatures like me.
Your cheeks are living bark,
Beechwood, crawling with pink-sunrise ivy;
You blush upon the realization
You're waking with company.
Every time, your reaction is the same.
Your eyelashes are made of spidersilk,
And dewdrop-freckles
Sprinkle your cheeks.
The wood trails down and around,
Contouring to the lines
--elegant, graceful--
that make up your forehead, nose, chin.
Red flowers blossom to form your lips,
And I always wish I was the hummingbird
Lightly kissing them.
YOU ARE READING
Pure ~ A Collection of Poetry
PoesíaA simple collection of poems I've put together, meant to get you thinking. I wrote some and gathered some, but if you don't like poetry, don't read. ;) RANKED #356 IN POETRY ON 7/27/2016!
