Tumbling upwards towards the edge
in time for darkness to soak up his core
once she has relieved hers, so that nothing
is left to chance,
nothing to regret,
and nothing to ransom,
but all to loving
all to longing
that with life begins
and on and on resounds
stretching the soul to a thinness of honeysuckle scent
freed into the air.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...