Cinquain

Forgive

forgive
the way my hips
sway in mute seduction
as if offering a free ride
to hell

Taste of Eden

to taste
the forbidden
curves of his open mouth
as succulent as ripe peaches
in Eden

Hands

her hands
speak many things:
the birthing of spring lambs
love of dainty embroidery
old age

Eyes

clear eyes
once emerald green
now the color of clouds
reflected in pools of water
rippling

Homespun

homespun
calico dress
the same shade as bluebells
trimmed in a touch of her tatted
white lace

Heart and Hearth

in fear
i cling to him
trying to warm myself
by the crackling fire within
his heart