Two mugs  each painted with a heart of gold

Two broken lamps, a  painted china bowl
The table with its glass and wicker shaped
The sea shells we brought home, the sandy holes

Two mugs  each painted with a heart of gold
A cashmere shawl I bought too late
Two broken lamps a ache inside my soul

 

Do you believe that men are bold?
Do they have  thoughts they must negotiate?
The sea shells we brought home, their well-shaped holes

 

How do trees feel when the weather’s cold?
Do they feel a tenderness where branches broke?
Two broken lamps ache by   this china bowl

In my hands, my destination’s told
There is a fire but never any smoke
The sea shells we brought home, their salty holes

Your suffering face, your nose just like a hawk’s
Your sea green  eyes, how well they  used to speak
Two broken lamps, a  painted china bowl
The sea shells we brought home, where is my soul?

 

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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