Tuesday, June 19, 2012



She glides across rooms in my mind

leaving a perfumed trace

a malleable presence of her

unique being speaks to me

Unconsciously I utter her message 

preparing the ground

scattering ripe forms

of organic shape

Words born from clays birthed in earth

fired in volcanic heat

cooled softened tempered

sit gently on the page


in air float lovingly.

© MRL 19-06-12