Black Cherries (circa. 2011)

🍒

By rain, by the colour of her hair
by the sweet, soft fragrance of her cheek
the curls fell and warmed my senses 
like fragrant oil warmed by a winter sun

she could never take a step by me
but by her own gentle manner and stealth
only time’s extravagant hands could 
mould feelings so hard and scarred

I met her on a Tuesa-day when a kite flew 
and hit the clouds in a bird’s egg sky
it were a bag of surprises that burst and 
spilled shapes, some honey and golden

it never dawned it was tangled wool 
in wild cherry branches, twisted and thorned
none were prettier, long-legged nor honest 
than the raven haired, rose hipped Colene

not Betty Ball, not Mary Lane could catch a fire 
while my silken maid went a walkin’
or smiled, or tidied her hair for she and 
a garland of forest flowers were much sweeter,

she could lean like a willow ash
laugh like a spring of morning rain,
speak so soft or bite like mosquitoes
leave hearts raw, sore or kiss like 
peaches dressed in rose petals

©edenbraytoday20.06.2011 

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another from a retrospective catalogue ©  2 hours ago, edenbray    love • nature • pain • misc