Troubadour.

Caressed by your words

falling, soft as snow

upon my welcoming flesh.

Imangined kisses leave your lips

to brush against my skin.

 

Every indrawn breath,

holding back the liquid notes,

will find the weakness I possess.

Ever wanting, always waiting

for your heart to let me in.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

As ever for the same special man.

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Starward's picture

Brief but powerful

I think the medieval troubadour poets would recognize this poem as coming from a kindred spirit.  You have compressed great emotion into a very small space, an excellent command of language.


Starward

 

sweetwater's picture

Your comments are greatly

Your comments are greatly appreciated, thank you.  I am so pleased the emotion I hoped would come through, has done so. Sue