Wednesday, February 5, 2014

campfire concerto

How I'll always think of her
gazebo beyond the hidden willow
Orion the hunter above, warming campfire embers
the pale blue-eyed lass of birchwood meadow
pure heart, playing an old piano
tossing her wild mane, the dance of 88
tumbling breathless, blushing


Blogger Cait O'Connor said...

I loved every line of this beautiful poem.

2/05/2014 6:47 AM  
Blogger Berowne said...

Delicate and quite pleasing...

2/05/2014 7:52 AM  
Blogger Helen said...

Phil, this feels so lush, sensuous .. Love it!

2/05/2014 9:39 PM  
Blogger Helena said...

Harmoniously wild and free! A breath of love and fresh air!

2/06/2014 6:30 PM  
Blogger phil said...

thanks, Friends! :)

2/09/2014 6:53 PM  

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