two peaceswe came to live in a cabin out by the lake,where we'd laughed and loved our lives away,in the pine-smelling dusty air.you wrote your poemscurled up in light on the sill,you were streaming your long hairout the window like a flag on the shorewhere the waters say
shhh (we're here to stay)alone in this place- it's aliveand so full of dead silence,just hanging in the airby the light of the afternoon.you were lit by the candle glow,endless skin as white as snow.but you are more like a summer rose-unfolding all your secrets to meas you whispershhh (i am only yours)i remember your tender voice,a lark singing in the nighttime breeze, andyour fingers caressing me,beneath the silken sheet of darkness.and when you held me there,a crown of moon beams on your hair,i was never safer, never dearer
to the one who loves me bestso i'll tell youshhh (i'll always be near)
a season-frozen shorecould you hold me here forever, with the view of the sea?and still against your fever warmth,while snow drops fall into the waves with haste.this is a sleeping place,a season-frozen shore.all paths are milky white, and lead to the blue water's edge,to send me across frosted glassin a sail boat lined with satin.the clouds hang low and grey,the deep color of your eyes,and silence the skies until all is barely an echo-the sound of an image passed.an angel cries somewhere in the distance,wearing swan feathers, and watching with liquid eyes.here under the sheets with you i rest,dreaming of the song, and folded in your breath.could you hold me here forever? i never want to wake.
woodlanderan endless path owns my feet,of grass and dirt and roots of trees.my hands tremor with the leaves, warm and green,fingers laced with summer breeze.beneath these freckled eyelids hides a secretive gaze,a lustrous desire for the hidden places,folded away in bark and shade,under wells, amidst the glades-invisible, i'll be freer there.to wear raindrops in my hair.and stain my skin with earthen shades,berry lips and sun-blush shoulders,rocky bruises, purple-grey.a silent woodland holds my soul,in dappled light, under birch and branch.to lie in lavender, and dream in dreams.a wild garden of untamed things.handfuls of thistles, thorn-pricked skin-little things that life hides in;and later will i remember where to find it?