The pulling pulse of Summer,
Warm hazy afternoons,
Where blue skys drift,
In ribbons of scent.
Remember?
Sweet honey,
Breeze.
Cottonwoods along the river,
Leaves twist and shimmer,
Moving in rythemic motion.
Pitch in tune with,
Dance of pinecones's bough.
Devotion this musical mystique,
Strumming humm of joy,
Passing Summer days,
"And you My Lady..."
No comments:
Post a Comment