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Fingertip seasons
by Beth K Hannah Winter:
Infinite you are
As you touch my wings
Spread your gossamer tidings
Weaving me a folk tale.
Spring:
I feel like a brand new prostitute
Out on her first night
Her first client eyes her up and down
And hands her the money.
Summer:
If I seldom see the truth
It is because I love you
And not because I exist for you.
Fall:
I catch you in my palms
My eyes light up like a waterfall
Even before you start to resist
I let you down again.
07/13/2003 Author's Note: My rough attempt at something other than my own self mutilating.
Dedicated to the emotion that twists.
Posted on 07/14/2003
Copyright © 2024 Beth K Hannah
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Cymbre Dolphay on 07/14/03 at 05:58 AM Like it muchly. The seasons are their own emotinal state... |
| Posted by Martini Koy on 07/14/03 at 08:37 AM you've given each season life. they're almost like people. i like it. |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 07/18/03 at 10:48 PM Very earthy and exquisite... a great read. Thanks. |
| Posted by Don Coffman on 09/01/03 at 03:29 AM A creative approach, well done. As said previously, the seasons (and the colors) do sort of outline the emotional states. |
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