I would rather
clutch my invitation
and wait my turn
in party clothes
prim, proper
safe and clean.
…………………………
But a pulsing hand
keeps driving me
over peaks
ravines
and spidered brambles.
…………………………………
So, I’ll pant
up to the pearled knocker
tattered
breathless
and full of tales.
– Janet Chester Bly
Oooh! That’s good. Gave me goosebumps.
I am enjoying your blog very much- I love the poem- wonderful!