22 November 2017
22 November 2017 - 1:42 am
i saw you once
with bare feet scampering through a far-off forest
eyes shooting arrows from your lycian bow into my psyche
sometimes i wonder if that arrow was of Eros' quiver instead
golden boy with the golden curls and the golden lyre and the golden tunic and the golden smile and the golden youth and the golden sandals and the golden bow and the golden quiver and the golden heart and the golden warmth of the sun that permeates the body far deeper than a sunburn ever will.
22 November 2017 - 2:08 am
This poem is about:
Me
My community
Our world