The way you define yourself as a writer is that you write every time you have a free minute. If you didn't behave that way you would never do anything.
The essence of you.
DescriptionA fictional thought !!
| |
I can feel you,
I know your there,
I can sense your presence,
I can smell your scented hair.
Retouch my heart,
Let your entrancing bells toll,
Release the amorous butterflies,
Let them free inside my soul.
Kiss me again,
With warm lily soft lips,
Melt the loneliness from my passion,
Arouse lost senses with your gentle fingertips.
I can see you,
Though not outside my mind,
Reach out, rebuild my vision,
Without you I’ve become so blind.
Your shadow is getting stronger,
Your being becoming clouds,
Your beauty used to stun me,
But now it’s become a shroud.
Show me your eyes,
Look at me the way you used to,
Your emerald eyes of Ireland,
That drew my love to you.
Till death do we part?
Is it ever the end?
I’m so haunted by your beauty,
On your essence I depend.
Comments
Sunday, 12th February 2012 | 10:01 pm
Steve, this could be a poem about Ireland..or is it a loved one in time for Valentine's Day?
Doesn't matter as it could work well both ways..I like this verse...
'Show me your eyes,
Look at me the way you used to,
Your emerald eyes of Ireland,
That drew my love to you.'
XX
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susanna Dunne
Sunday, 12th February 2012 | 08:21 pm
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