Grass Widow

The sky above transcends to blue,
Soft and mellow, a dreamers day;
In paper meadows where we lay,
Sings my heart for a wish come true.

The joy of touch creates a tear
Of burning youth and passion’s lips,
Of summer’s love partook in sips
The first that brings the woman near.

You think me old with winter’s hue,
But summer’s kisses keep me new.

Copyright ©RMC Mar 2018  All rights reserved

 

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