There is a place, mountains high and green meadows low.
A place, where white rivers of winding veins flow,
to and from a space where my beating heart is slow.
Her crown, golden and emplaced atop mere shadow,
A place of starlight and storms, where I can only follow.
In this place I shall always know, that in her space is where I will always go.
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Author:
dgotoole (
Offline) - Published: February 17th, 2024 21:06
- Category: Love
- Views: 6
- User favorite of this poem: Qurrathul Ain.
Offline)
Comments1
Your rhymes wonderfully glow,
My joy and peace finely grow,
I feel you have made a good show,
In a fine way, words, you could sow!
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