|
Lean in Close to Whisper
by Alison McKenzieYour lips brush my cheek,
Satin strokes of artistry,
Painting me brilliant hues of flaming sunrise.
The warmth of your breathless love
Caresses my ears,
Touches my soul,
Stirs the depths of my desire
To feel the flow of your gurgling waters
Coursing into my veins again.
My heart beats a new rhythm
Bearing the mark of your music in its score.
If not for you,
I shall never love again
In the wake of your mastery.
The secret language
Of our lava island
If I never go again,
At least I will have visited.
Your eternal touch imprinted
Indelible ink of your love
Leaning in close to whisper.
10/24/2005 Posted on 10/24/2005
Copyright © 2025 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 10/25/05 at 06:37 AM Alison, within the touch of sadness there is growth - interdependence, but a strong independence. Freedom has been kind to you and you have moved on. Good for you.
~Chelle~ |
|
