13
Sep
11

untitled (but written while thinking of walt whitman)

 

will you lay with me here/and breath in the air/the grass softly scratches your cheeks and tickles your nose/your brow wrinkles and your lips curl into a smile/will you lay with me here/and stare at the sky/conjure our future and kiss me/dirt smell and water softly lapping/the wind a whoosh through the pines/crackles the grass and softly lets the present pass/will you lay with me here/arms cradling my head/the rise and fall of your every breath/sunlight filtered through your hair/as you bend down to whisper in my ear/will you lay with me here/and never let me go

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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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