As I sat underneath the holly tree
Pouring my thoughts into stone I found myself Writing of you again The wind Carried this tune for miles In the smoke from my mahogany pipe Mixing my words into distant clouds; Promising to release them Onto your doorstep With the next downpour Like melodies of pink robins Nesting in this tree. All that’s left now Is to remain faithful That you’ll recurve this bouquet in its entirety. I fear not For the breeze has yet to let me down #HerScent#HidesintheBreeze#OdestoMadamDiva
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Jonathan M. EmersonAuthor Archives
May 2020
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