Sometimes I close my eyes,
Hold my breath,
And try to hear you in the silence…
Your heart beating,
Your body breathing,
The wind whispering through your hair.
In the quiet moments,
When the world is still,
And my mind is at rest,
You come to me.
The ghost of your fingertips stroking my hand,
Your caresses, like whispers of distant memories,
Which I cannot name,
And cannot deny.
I can feel you
Flowing like a river beneath me...
Your breath
Soft as blessings upon my cheek.
And as a child in the warm rains of summer,
I dance in you.
The day-to-day musings of a frustrated conservative American.
Friday, January 21, 2011
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