Pacific Side Sound
Pacific Side Sound
I’m thrown from a cliff,
Yet see a beautiful flower and pick it,
The flower becomes a wish;
The water softens, the fall a kiss,
Coaxed by tide to fireside, upon
A moonlit beach.
Flames
Lively shadows dance on broken
Walls of freedom,
Seasons warned
Through times caress, the
Flower in open hand expressed,
Provokes a lonely weeping.
From shadows forth
An angel wakes, takes the flower
From my hand, gives warmth
within her buxom;
The embrace is shared,
A keepsake from a lonely place
Where lovers found entwined were sleeping.
Michael J Waite 0331hrs Thursday the 26th February 2009.
Deborah Jordan Bailey
Thu 26th Feb 2009 20:45
I like this Michael. I am full of 'flu and can't think of any intellegent useful thing to say, only that it is evocative, flows like a glass of cabernet and leaves me feeling just as warm. Deb