By sarah iristakeroot@powerlynk.com
Date: 24 July 2000
ways from home
my arms are
hollow
you can hear
the wind blowing
through them
and my lips
have no home
now to
lay themselves on
my body sleeps
with no one
to cradle it
from behind
and to touch
softly in
the early morning
light
but my arms
have the memory
of when you
couldn't hear the wind
and my lips
have a ways
to travel
but they know
where their home is
and my body
waits for that
touch in the
early morning
hours....
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner