Saturday, September 15, 2012

A Free Thing

How can you bind me? I am free
As the wind washes over a new-blown sea,
As the light of a cloud on a single eye,
Or reflections that rove in a pool's dye.
I am the summer, I am the spring,
A wild, unsearchable, wandering thing,
Sweet as a petal born in dusk,
Soft as the warmth of a rose's musk.
How can you bind me? Cuffed or chained
I am the length of a pouring rain,
The autumn of doubt or the lands of pain
Can never grow weeds on my budding plain.

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