Hands of Gold

Published on by Tosha Michelle

Spring whispers when you are near.

Breathe your name into my ear.

Tell me your stories,

 especially the ones

written on ancient tapestry.

Give me flower seeds I can plant.

I’ve stumbled through the bramble 

to find you.

I was not seeking this knotty retreat,

but look how my leaves

have taken to the light.

Carry me to the highest treetop.

Fly with me on the wind. 

Watch  over me when my mind

plays peekaboo with the dark.

When  I can’t locate myself on any map,

and I’m lost a land wishing to destroy me.

Give me the gold of your heart.

The stream of your resolve.

The pixie dust of your hands.

For me, at least, your magic is enough. 

-Tosha Michelle


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