Details |
Patrick Feeney Poem
Running fingertips
through tall sharp wheat, at peace alone
here, life's my indulgence.
01/02/15
Copyright © Patrick Feeney | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Patrick Feeney Poem
I contemplate lips.
those rounded pale things are perfect against my dewy eyes.
I ruminate on hands.
those strong old things deserve to be in mine.
I consider eyes.
Those seas of soul wash over me and soothe beyond imagining.
I reflect on you.
yet never see your focused form.
lost, distracted.
by tiny.
perfect.
details.
I think on you.
Copyright © Patrick Feeney | Year Posted 2015
|
Details |
Patrick Feeney Poem
Gg
Copyright © Patrick Feeney | Year Posted 2015
|