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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=579074" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Words That Their Poets Came</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=579074" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Words that burn infinitely burn for women: <br>Lochs of women, virgins breathing and snorkeling both<br>Above and beneath the sea: <br>Women of green and amber eyes, like the resins of super holy<br>And Christmas trees: <br>Women I was afraid to share the stares of, so I skipped<br>High school and listened all day sweaty and hyperventilating <br>To the lions choosing their mates, <br>Just as not much later the women chose theirs: <br>Then they jumped through hoops of fire in the street lights ofs<br>Their carnival ling bars: <br>And when it rained, these women stepped bare naked out into<br>The rain and fell in love, open mouthed, <br>Their bosoms bared, to the words that their poets came.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a></strong></div>

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