New lands; a page in a book
and not the blankness I mistook.
A portrait, so clear and concise
and purity like crystallised ice.
Skin of glass that moulds the finger's edge
and to the lips I silently pledge -
for not the texture of thy river-like hair
when measured to emotion couldn't compare.
For the words that mean more than I be
erupt from a creature of majestic divinity;
angelic and whole in everything spirit,
but low and cunning and full of wit.
Need to be something of the mind
and not that which stays behind
and the everything will move to good
and all feels as it should.
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Author:
Luke (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 10th, 2017 00:52
- Comment from author about the poem: This is a simple poem about the fulfillment of love and what that requires. Enjoy :)
- Category: Love
- Views: 40
Offline)
Comments2
this is indeed a lovely poem nice work Luke!
Well written and expressed Great write
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