Father, artist, designer and haphazard poet. http://odesandink.com
We two trees that stand a foot apart;
Blackberry bushes mimic how our roots have grown,
Let us share the earth as our beating heart.
My country side is a woman. With nooks in her hills.
Awash with August rain.
Rasping in my ear.
Potholes in the wibbly-wobbly lanes.
Your Hair wound around my pillow.
The fibres tickle me alert
to the wind trying to enter our room.
I left something to roast in your dreams;