He polishes her like old wood,
At night they pin each other like two rings
on a dark hand. After many nights,
the rough sides wear down.
#
If that is aging, it is warm as fleece.
She will gleam like ancient wood,
She will wax smooth, her crags and cowlicks,
well-rubbed to show her grain.
#
The wise will keep them in his hand
for peace.
At night they pin each other like two rings
on a dark hand. After many nights,
the rough sides wear down.
#
If that is aging, it is warm as fleece.
She will gleam like ancient wood,
She will wax smooth, her crags and cowlicks,
well-rubbed to show her grain.
#
The wise will keep them in his hand
for peace.
Image Credit: Google.com, poetry copy righted by Nancy Willard