Tuesday, April 8, 2014

98/365 : you, in your hard-hat. me, in my mirage.



beautiful man
outside my window
do you smell the sage smoke
spewing from my hippy home
in your plain white T
and dirt painted blue jeans?

is it crazy for me to
make babies in my mind
with your muscles so defined
and my heart so wild
that only our child
could be brazen enough
to bare all your strength
and all my care
in one?


No comments:

Post a Comment