The pinks have lost their passion
and the evening reds have dimmed.
Soft dew, soft light, soft darkness hide the thoughts
of these inseparable lovers, earth and sun.
Their ardour done,
their hidden source of energy run dry,
they turn apart like two magnetic toys
that will return.
Moon and stars may smooth their counterpane,
but I will not intrude.
Who knows what promises these lovers dream
who eight swift hours from now
will stir to some pale, tender
and involuntary touch?
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
Hello everyone who follows David King (My Father). On behalf of the family this post is to let you know that Dad sadly passed away, peacefu...
It was six men of Indostan To learning much inclined, Who went to see the Elephant (Though all of them were blind), That each by observation...
And synchronicity goes marching on... Art Durkee first mentioned it in his comment to my Schweitzer (Part 1) post. I then picked up the thou...
A Birthday in April ~ Wordsworth Prompt from The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (The first of three posts which will celebrate the l...