I think I was searching for treasures or stones
in the clearest of pools
when your face...
when your face.
like the moon in a well
where I might wish....
might well wish
for the iced fire of your kiss;
only on water my lips, where your face...
where your face was reflected, lovely,
not really there when I turned
to look behind at the emptying air...
the emptying air.
No comments:
Post a Comment