Bend Over Me
Bend over me, autumn willow,
wrapping me in solitude's soft shawl;
listening to the breezes' sighing saunter,
swirling close-stitched leaves,
a gentle singing up and down your golden cords;
saturate my soul, ripened sweetness,
with harvest's dusky, mellow fruit.
Cradle me, womb of silence,
until the angry, bitter world ceases speech.
Copyright, August 8,2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
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