WE laughed within the wheat
golden field of summer bliss
running like
— youth burned
the feet of our souls
The sun touched my heart
as you laid upon the field
I gave in — nature gave way
the skies fueled passion-gold
and my soul died into you
:: 01/22/2014 ::
PRIVILEGE suffer
my beautiful tragedy
Society of high
and low know not
such suffering
upon your soul
The beauty
— who hath no love
But mirage
of shadow-lust
What price
— you would pay
to find love
tender and true
No cost for you —
Such love
indeed too rare
::12-29-2013::
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E.P. Robles | Poetry 