fragment 61

by kvennarad

You curl round me like a fern,
like a fern round my heart, close
and green, tight round my old heart…

the fern, the green hand-amongst-hands of the mountainside above, and of the chuckling, secretive dens below the sheep-wanders; how tight you clutch in the wait of winter, the weight of winter beneath the snow, how you curl around my slowing heart…

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