under that tree I kept it hidden
the sheen of your sweat
which had flowed for me in desire.
who dug it out,
along with my sensuality
which I had packed inside a bubble?
the air evokes you for me,
moving in a lumber way-
now it blows too fast
leaving a wreck behind.
"I will again create a bridge and reach out for you"
Writing another keepsake poem was tough. I don't think I succeeded. Thanks We Write Poem for using my prompt for this week