Maybe if I listen, I can hear the leaves whisper calmly to me

Your sappy sweet refrain, always leaves me with a mouthful of watering hope

My fingers are sticky from your words dripping like maple

I run my tongue over desire

My thoughts become fabric stuck with traces of you

I smell of life and your words

Lifelines but in trees

Waving gently 

Are you calling to me? 

© Delia Ross. 2021 / @poeeternal

3 responses to “Maybe”

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