![]() |
Title is from John Donne, 'Air and Angels' written for a dear, dear friend |
| Of poetry and your sweet voice did I, this morning, pass glad moments nay, lifetimes, listening to, lying in the half dawn sprawled upon my bed wishing, oh wishing that you were by my side- my head pillowed on your chest, fingers dancing an odd dance of love here and there... first on your brow and then lower, caressing the lips that spoke such poetry. And I lie there lost in the dream, a smile touching emerald eyes. Listening still to words long dead, but still alive in your heart, your voice and as the silence once more creeps I cannot move. There still, I lie surrounded by echoes and ever so softly feel your heart move within mine. |