Image by >Shannon< via Flickr
We cast our stones into the lake of desire
and felt the moon shine upon us,
illuminating love's tender yearning.
Trees loomed large,
reaching to the heavens
with giant fingers
as your fingers traced my skin,
soft as the moss
that gave cushion to our love.
All that we are,
all that we hope to be
was born...
and nothing that came before
or after
has been quite so beautiful.
Tender is the night.
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Delightful poem. What a great poet you are Cheryl.:)
ReplyDeleteThank you, MJ...for reading and commenting...:)
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