It Takes a Mighty Effort To Stand
It rushes around it, it darts in and out of it.
Is it a dream, flames make you scream, to sit
around the fire, and watch you rush.
Blood your mighty
river, makes you blush, so you stand.
To stand is a mighty effort, it is thick in leaves, it is king,
it stands back up again, in drops that drip on your lips.
It smiles wickedly, your knees shake and sigh, bold as
glitter, you try to fold, it back inside..
You sit then, to take it in, with just your eyes, as you watch
the hand less veil, roll back the tide, and touch the fold.
It knows your taste, it knows your smell, it knows the holy
tears that you have shed, to keep it in, yet still it dances round
the rim of fire, with a much hotter flame.
Every bed, in light of day or dream of night, hides the rose,
it's might of leaves that rid the bud of sight, to beat around
the edge this queen and never walk inside the steam, it is
the greatest blush of all..it smiles inside your, forest dear.
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