B E W I T C H E D
Between rainfall and the glint of night pearls
enchanting is air, a minty cologne
where toes go barefoot to wade and unfurl
into a pour of lips glowingly sewn.
Touches ripen the aftertaste of dew
catching a stardust with beguiled ardor
heady the flight of promises renewed
even the mist hums an intimate lore
drenched in words,”You are my forevermore…”
Regina Riddle's Romantic Acrostics
10/8/1014
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2014
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