Spring is not an easy passage to enter,
But what choice is there?
The deep sleep of winter's icy bed
Is much easier to endure,
That pure and consuming survival
Where being warm - even if alone - is enough.
Spring stirs things that can't be managed,
The wanting of a lover's neck to nuzzle
And the wanting, and the wanting...
And where are honest arms to wrap up in
When  morning swarms with birds,
Or when the coming scented night time
Looms over me and my hands hold only
My dear sweet splitting maul?


About Sednan

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