Telling You, My Feelings Poem by James McLain

In your hands, is my heart.
Why, it is bleeding,
and how can I, hold it in?

Earlier than this,
but shortly thereafter I knew.
The bud in the blossom
because of the thorn,
both grew.

Watching your belly
like some marsupials pouch
hidden deep alive within.

Peachs turning gold hang once green.
The sun as it warms them, they fall.

When if again you come to decide
and squeeze them,
again you will be as you are.

Sitting amongst all the cypress trees.
One knee so it seems you are fond of.


Some of my feeling I have told you.