Cinnamon Sticks.

lay me down in the long grass

early october,

take me back.

take off your shirt, take the bridge,

take what was lost, the long last night, the

late winter night when you came around

and the cold had frozen your hair a little, to the peach

by the fountain, to the lazy afternoons delaying your

deadlines just a smidgen more for an hour of

us. to the severn breeze, and that moment.

i know that’s the happiest i’ve ever been.

and now scatterbrained, I wane, I’m vague,

it’s all gone.

But the letter –

tulips bloom, and spring –

when will we meet again.

watch the birches,

our constant.

like girls on hands and knees, as i

read to you that frosty night,

like girls that throw their hair before them

to dry in the Sun.

but i want you too. to

purse those petal pink lips

and blow away my blossoming agony.

lay me down in the long grass,

take me back.

tulips bloom, and spring –

when will we meet again.

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2 thoughts on “Cinnamon Sticks.

  1. Hi there, just popping by to say hello, and to let you know that we have a new site –

    If you want to receive future updates and poetry by new writers from us, please head to the new site, and click “Follow this
    blog” (You can do so by just liking a post in our blog (which is where the poetry is residing now), which then gives you the option to follow). We look forward to seeing you
    over there, and thank you for your support over the last year and a half. Here’s to the next chapter :)

    – Dagda Publishing

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