Swirl our uncertain love in sweet ice-cream snowdrops…

Twirl my love, return unbidden wintry, I’m sprung, all summery…

She makes a week the making of another world. Seven days too many, and I’ve not got a penny more, but I do adore, I do, I do true…

How dare you compliment my kisses and depart? Fair woman of the free wind, hyper-seasonal work of highest art, under-dressed in day-glow… 

Jar our fleeting love in just honeycomb daffodils…

© Thomas James Foster 2015


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s