The Reality of a Walk In the Woods
The beckoning still of a pool of
blue flowers
(Her eyes, they lure and I drift)
Sunlight filters above
(Her hair, soft, slips through
my fingers)
The caress of a whispering
breeze
(Her voice, provocative)
The subtle turbulence of flora
(Her scent, sensual... come
closer)
Droplets gather and fall
(Her tears, she is vulnerable)
I want to take her hand
(I can’t)
We walk in the woods
( It is nothing more)
Copyright © Pol Anto | Year Posted 2010
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