The weeds are high
the water's low
the path is thorns, but still I go
barefoot by the firefly glow
to meet you.
North of the Southern Baptist Church
where daddy preaches and sinners burn,
where Solomon sings the sweetest words,
and I keep you
as a deacon's favorite vice.
For Rommy's prompt at Real Toads
Note: In case you missed it yesterday, I have a new poem ("Microorganism") at Maudlin House. Big thanks to all who have already checked it out and / or commented!