Take my hand
it is nothing I am just loosing leaves
(yet everyone carries inside
a touch of autumn)
hold me close –
I am as cold as the evening air
on rainy porch it smells
like the wind and moistness of lips
immersed in a cup
condensed Brahms sonata
lulls time to sleep
in the morning
dreams and roses
will bloom again
Your gift is ever blossoming…another gem!
Thank you Wendell You words are generous and kind – and not just those left on my blog, my friend! Your own writing is moving and beautiful…
You are gifted!