Cookies are easy
they go upside down
all across the City
in New York City
we could be baking and making
with something between us… 145 more words
Tags » Love Poem
This poem is a bucket.
This poem is a moonbeam.
This poem is my husband.
A container of vague reference and history,
its origins unknown but its utility humbly significant. 203 more words
What do you write when perfectly content? I’ll try to think of something…
No more shooting stars and fiery splendour
no more dancing under the full moon… 284 more words