In the passages of my time
I am the benevolent symbol
Laid into seams that easily stretch
From nether regions of
An angry personage
To crispy green crunches
Of fresh Sunrise apples;
Delicate fingertips as I dance merrily
With sunbeams casting minute details
Into consciousness’ unrelenting path.
And if gods were ever here
It was an idle truth,
A crass gesture,
I’ve seen their footprints muddling midday shores
High tide, low tide
Stomping children’s little castles.
Come and get my open arms
My roots are in your hair
My hands are on your hips
My high is for your low
And I am feeling tongue tied.