I am a lizard in your trees,
My skin is cold and brittle,
But I shed fires underneath
When forge my wreath of riddle.
I brisk about on the branch
Basking in playing games,
My tail whips seconds as I arch
My back, but I am tame.
I’m bare-rhymed at the love gate:
No words to build the stairways
Of beauty dying in arcades
Of numb desires in a daze.
Disfeatured faces in review
Fade on th’ amalgam of my eyes -
I can reflect them all but you
Remain unmirrored in disguise.
The Lizard
© Copyright: Асобу, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111092706270
Свидетельство о публикации №111092706270
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