Wood 13 Tuesday Aug 2013 Posted by Caro Field in poetry ≈ 2 Comments Spalded beech. I love the look of it, The feel of it, The smell of it. Marbled veins run through it. Smooth to touch, Living, almost breathing. The smell is intoxicating, The feel is divine. Wood… Share this: Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window) LinkedIn Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Pinterest Like Loading...
Your poem about beech, Is simply a peach!
Thanks Roy!