It's His Woods In Her Forest;

It's his woods in her forest; That my eyes have seen inside of her two parts. Softly talking, themselves, webbed in collusion. Golden those leaves hold out two worlds, upside down in moon cups, sleepless those voices. Many, many trees, cotton woods, brown tanned. Squirrels nests hang down so full with birds at play. Between the bark the cracks are deep, and the smell of sticky sap, thick puddled grainy is warm heady. Most who pass by, push there fingers deep inside it. Then reach down to wipe it, along in smears, so tacky in the middle of every where, loved between each touch. While the trees grow very deep I thought and live within her forest.