The Meadow

I dreamt of a wicked meadow beckoning,
of bashful blooms a rubescent red,
of a silvery sliver moon, 
clothing carelessly strewn,
and wily wildflower, watching ‘round our heads

I dreamt of dewy green, glimmering grass,
of making bed with petal and plume,
of passionate eyes,
carefree, primal cries,
and the plummeting pinnacle untombed

I dreamt of liquid stardust sweltering,
on fevered flesh, as cores collide,
of celestial glow,
bodies shimmering below, 
and shadows refusing to hide

Image credit
Shared as part of Dverse’s Open Mic Night 


5 thoughts on “The Meadow

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