i come not skilled
but milled as wheat woven
to bake bread, passed
thru by sign and sin
as rising from a hearth, with breath
of summer once again
within darkest green of forest,
covered
both by moss and beck, a riverlet of thirst
as passion falls, then flows
towards a cottage gifted by your hand
where you await the want i wear
worn as a baker's daughter
a dress, pressed light to air
both heart of man
and touch of your sweet laughter
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011
painting by Raphael entitled: La Fornarina (the baker's daughter)
