doorway

with a man upon his throne, he lay upon the world a poem

perhaps twas tethered to the time, betwixt the wave a rolling sine

doubt not the power of the sun, spellbound by the words upon that tongue

there upon the grass she lay, her ribbons tied with bows to stay

lips glossed with desire to press upon, the measures of his lovely song

to and fro the dance began, slow like a waltz leading with his hand

somewhere there upon that scene, her heart was lost yet so serene

gentle fingers knowing their place, lost in the moment upon her face

as they laughed and carried on, time ceased to play its aging song

he spoke so softly and held so strong, that cold within her heart now gone

pressing further into the night, wind gently licked the candle's light

upon a moment fixed in time, that gentle rolling of her spine

silent starlight illuminating the night, his loving hands spoke with eyes so bright

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nightlight1220's picture

Beautiful, burke. This

Beautiful, burke. This reminds me of how falling in love happens. Just beautiful harmony here between your characters.


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "

 

burkej1h's picture

thanks you :) --- love -- jb

thanks you :) --- love -- jb