Freedom

Comb my hair 
With the wind
As through a  field of barley.

Take frailest fawn
Of oaten straw
To plait a lady's favour.

Pluck me 
The sweetest fruit 
Your lips have savoured.

Release me 
To the sunrise
In a place of kindliness
And 
Hold my heart
Close by you
When it's time to leave.


JL April 22 10:14