Poetry
1 min
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his eyes are green (no, not just green)
Anna Gopen
his eyes are green (no, not just green)
his eyes are verdant fields
rolling over mounded hills like
lulling waves cresting
in the chilled March breeze
his eyes are verdant fields
rolling over mounded hills like
lulling waves cresting
in the chilled March breeze
they are redwood cathedrals towering
thick with teeming ferns and
evergreen needles coating the forest floor
I explore --
finding thin rings showing sage erudition
and inhale a whispered spiciness
thick with teeming ferns and
evergreen needles coating the forest floor
I explore --
finding thin rings showing sage erudition
and inhale a whispered spiciness
gazing deeper to discover
vibrant malachite gems
radiating in even the darkest of caverns
amulets against evil energies
that let chakras bloom like
flower petals stretching for the sun
vibrant malachite gems
radiating in even the darkest of caverns
amulets against evil energies
that let chakras bloom like
flower petals stretching for the sun
his eyes are ripe granny-smith apples
crisp and tart with one glance
warm and soft with a second bite
every sampling drawing me in
burrowing beneath skin and
planting roots for a strong life
together
crisp and tart with one glance
warm and soft with a second bite
every sampling drawing me in
burrowing beneath skin and
planting roots for a strong life
together
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