I have not made spring to love me

I have not made spring
to love me
how I may have dwelt with her
her brassiere and her white panties
so winter comes
its comfort a ceiling of stars
a wilderness the heart had made
to dwell
I did not know her so well
only that I wanted

This entry was posted in 2020, literature, poem, poems, poetry, writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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