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
posted by phil at 12:48 AM
phil
wandering
39° 44' N
86° 17' W
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This blog dedicated to my father and mother.
view my character sketch...
All original designs and text created by the author of this blog, Phil L., are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike3.0 License. All other materials remain the property of their respective owners and/or creators, unless of course they are part of the public domain.
5 Comments:
I loved every line of this beautiful poem.
Delicate and quite pleasing...
Phil, this feels so lush, sensuous .. Love it!
Harmoniously wild and free! A breath of love and fresh air!
thanks, Friends! :)
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