Morning Rain and Wet Grass.
Slipping on my bare feet upon the grass
that never deeply felt the lapse of hours,
although from earth it’s wildly growing
open the gateway for tears
and also to new beginnings.
I live in waiting for the secret
that burn out my feverish glow
surrounding me so painfully,
aching in my dried chest,
trembling to survey the sobbing weakness.
The tiring dusk after the morning rain
that took my dreams away
and my deep glance into the future
that fluttered apart in the summer curtain
with all my Love’s image of desire,
the breath of everything.
I lay my understanding, my sensitivity
into the flourish meadow I know,
that never withers, never gets old
never forgets the wreath I made,
of love for your tousled hair
and for feeling
your contagious smile.
©August 2016 k.c.