My forest wakes and breathes at night
A simple cup and knife-blade bright
Beside a stream where waters race
As though a passion causes fright
This beast I know but not his face
His anger stilled by one embrace
A smile, a word, I know he’s there
But then he’s gone without a trace
A ruined church beyond repair
The beast awaits my pleasure there
My love has died for lust I know
And misery for all I care
A valley opens here below
Where flowers and the wild things grow
But where this leads I do not know
And where it leads I do not know
(c) Helen Valentina 2013, All Rights Reserved
helenvalentina 
Reblogged this on Annie's Blog.
Oh I do like the odd ruined church, a stream and wild things growing! I don’t rhyme as well as you do but we clearly like some of the same visuals and undertones!
Thanks! I’m not surprised we write about similar things, we always have been kindred spirits! 🙂
This is fascinating, I really enjoyed it!
very nice 🙂
Thanks so much!