Breast or bubbles rising
In wet marshlands.
I wondrously watched and guarded
Their gradual swell and blooming
At the edges of my youth's season...
Saying nothing to anyone else
They sing along,
With me alone always,
Of heartbreak,
Love,
Intoxication.
During my penance
They seemed to want to break free
All in the fierce pull of lust they rise,
Engorged with memories of musical trance
Like two teardrops of unfulfilled love
That cannot ever be wiped away
They gather in a still pool and tumble.
Answered by VS-555
at
2:05 PM on March 30, 2007
