Each strand a down payment on beauty,
your hair draped like golden fabric,
breasts hidden by threads of sunlight,
and your face, a theater of thought.
I lie beside you, the room hushed,
as if the world agreed to quiet,
to let your musings travel freely,
and I watch, speculating the script.
What mosaic spins in your mind,
its loom working unseen, mysterious?
Is it dreams of far-off places, or
a tender replay of yesterday?
The curve of your arm, a gentle line,
draws me closer to the epicenter,
where thoughts and breaths intertwine,
a choreography of silent dreams.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: December 17th, 2024 13:27
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 38
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Offline)
Comments3
Beautiful lines expertly written resulting in a stunning image
Beautiful poem. Loved it very much
A lovely poem
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