Standing on river’s edge, I
Gaze into the crawling waters As sun slips into slumber; Dwelling underneath pink welkin Writing of her sweet Caress. Many moons have passed Since I’ve seen Love’s soft lips, Still I thirst for her sweet kiss Drought stricken soil Longing for her precipitation. Feather and paper in hand I traverse this silence filled land Stopping only To gather gems of rose heritage In order to construct A moon worthy of her stare Which I will hang from the tallest tree Every night as our sun fades; Illuminating my love for miles #HerScent#HidesintheBreeze#odestoMadamDiva
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Jonathan M. EmersonAuthor Archives
May 2020
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