You return when you feel like it, like rain.
And like rain you are tender, with the rain's inept tenderness.
A passion so general I could be anywhere.
You carry me out into the wet air.
You lay me down on the leaves and the strong thing is not the sex,
But waking up alone under the tress after.
Tag: linda-gregg
The thing we are trying to say is in the language of leaves.
Linda GreggThe sky is grey, the air hot.
I walk back across the mown lawn
loving the smell and the houses so completely it leaves my heart empty.
She shines and nobody knows what to do with her.
Linda GreggPagina 1 di 1.
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