Vision
Vision
A zephyr with
breaths of April after rain
whispered:
“sleep not this summer day.”
He stirred, woke up
and saw a heavenly face
eyes blue as the sky
and the skin of the apparition
had the hue of
un-profaned lips
only the newly born possess.
He smiled reached out
to touch the divine being,
but it had disappeared in a miasma
of the everlasting,
but leaving behind a hope as sweet
scent of jasmine.
Copyright © Jan Oskar Hansen | Year Posted 2013
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