This river, runs sweet, <br />clear, cool and narrow. <br />It is her banded waist she <br />wears so like her hair. <br />They flow down from the <br />mountains chapel diffed <br />as the tears that wash her <br />face in heat, i must drink from. <br />The stones swell, in eddies <br />swirled, in graced full circles. <br />Moving as in silky touch from <br />one hand hidden from two with <br />in the other. <br />The sun, her shinny as does the <br />shadowed moving stones. <br />Silvered to the hollow cup she <br />has destined to catch them so. <br />She gathers them as in love, and <br />carries them as his heart, beats to <br />spreads them the loam her hands <br />rich garden seeds now sown.<br /><br />Is It Poetry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/her-river-of-stones/
