The Velvet Trap
No one
not even
the rain
has hands
as small as yours
when you shake your head
your hair moves like
the limbs of willows
and that certain
motion of your fingertips
can stir the well of my soul
your electric love
calculated to please
is like
a ring
of trees on fire
around a pond of ice
Copyright © Johnnie Hynson | Year Posted 2015
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