Your skin glows like the apple, blossoms beautiful as the jasmine in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your recorder voice and leaps like a dog at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great blue wren wing.
I am comforted by your jumper that I carry into the twilight of shedbeams and hold next to my arm.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of vodka.
As my leg falls from my shirt, it reminds me of your bike.
In the quiet, I listen for the last barking of the day.
My heated hand leaps to my pants. I wait in the moonlight for your secret peddle so that we may ironing as one, hand to hand, in search of the magnificient red and mystical tree of love.
LOL!!! I think I got my doing words mixed up !! but I like the tears of vodka!! RDB
Be kind at heart....for everyone you meet has their own battle to fight.........