Geraldine Matus
Geraldine writes to save her sanity and sense of humour, and loves the joy of words being born through the imagination's eye.
POEMS
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My hand, still as darkness awaiting dawn, rests on your chest, alive against my own, holding harmony that blesses us today. Without warning, your heart takes flight with fear, and beating wildly as a captured bird's, turns to flame in your breast -- shaming ashes. At the altar of our bodies' union, I bring dreamtime treasures, healing potions for a frightened bird's wildly beating heart. |