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Long Shelter

by Michael Defries

The body is a precise tool
waiting for instructions

Laying there next to you
Awaiting your sweet gestures

Reach out my hand
It's the whole precipice

Waving gravity in your direction
Trepidations create wavering

Your bosom becomes silk
Lost in my sensory deprivation

It becomes the quiet space
Moving to forgotten shelter.

01/17/2010

Posted on 01/18/2010
Copyright © 2025 Michael Defries

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Therese Elaine on 01/18/10 at 04:42 AM

And it is a tool which can create such masterpieces, if cared for properly...lovely vision this creates here...truly lovely.

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