Your Lips Your Hands Your Mouth I Miss The Most Poem by James McLain

James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

Your Lips Your Hands Your Mouth I Miss The Most



Being borne up by the wind
high into the sky I am afloat
I seed each cloud
that plays a part to quench
a mouth on fire below around
full lips that are.

And stretched apart receding
smoke thats white
across red clay hands spread
through open mouths of rocky coast
a waving sea of grass
and green it is.

Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: green
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James McLain

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By
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