Meet me in the yellow wood

on the corner where the oak

and elm meet, where our two

paths cross like fingers, holding

flowers in our hands, freshly

picked from those we loved before.

 

We’ll discover a clearing marked

in pink and pretty weeds and 

bury our fists of flowers into

the soft earth beneath our feet,

then wait for rain to soften us

further, melt and meld us into

 

one road which leads to endless

setting suns on sea horizons,

cliff faces shielding the wind

and lighthouses calling our names.

 

What I mean is, hold my hand

and let’s call this safety.

 

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Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020

Between the Trees UK

Between the Trees US

https://linktr.ee/KristianaReed