Where Wild Things Grow
Where Wild Things Grow
His arms caress her wantonness
Her earthy moisture leeches beneath her
In ebbing pools and warm this dank place
Where wild things grow
He plants kisses in feathered dances
Across her hands in little rows
Fever snakes through her cold limbs
While she presses her nose deep
Against the earthen hollows of his neck
Her gray hair still her crowning glory
He pays no mind to her weathered brow
No scar internal or external can diminish her
He sees beauty within her faded hues
Where the timothy grass grows sweet
And captures and delights their sighs;
Once again she’s a free bird that soars beyond his touch.
Selena Howard ©2011
6 Comments
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strongheart 
nice 🙂 i enjoy the organic nature of this love
Thank you I use quite a bit of nature metaphors in my poetry
What a romantic poem about the freedom of the individual! I love the line,
He plants kisses in feathered dances
This is an excellent poem, Selena.
Thank you Thomas I’m quite fond of that line as well . I’m glad you enjoyed this
Pretty cool diddy here. Romantic poem, love it, thank you, much appreciated…
One of my old favorites for sure, thank you John