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Click hereFrom deep in the sacred stream of sleep
I am raised awake
by the song of noisy birds.
I had been happy, dead
to touch and scent
in a field of white flowers,
but the insistent earth
sprouts vines from its damp soil
to entwine my limbs,
wash me in the fragrance
of honeysuckle and jasmine, until
I own no slumbered sense,
but walk and laugh and roll
in the lush greenery of Persephone's rich fields,
unwary of my necessary Fall.
No great comment, but want to say that I read your poem and it's good. You're always good. Write more!
Great scene. Tz, I've always dug your poems, you create some very vivid images.