As I would peel gold from a persimmon 
so would I strip away hauteur 
buried
behind the storm of your downcast eyes,
nothing quite touches me
like innocence 
and words kept from addressing their pain.

You see 
I want you from your skin 

to your soul,
your smile deserves to be kissed 
as though clouds
that touch upon a rouge sunset,
I crave the emotions
stirring deep inside your breast 
the fiery essence 
of despair mingled with conviction
and hope. 


You are cornucopia
of winter sunshine, fire, velvet wind, oh layers
of begrudging leaves
who for purposes benign my warm and giving
nature deceive.

 

Photo credits: Rusty Gold by L.L. Williams

Posted for Artistic Interpretations with Margaret @ Real Toads