The river bends along the curve...and flows in a wind...
You know that the little bird still waits there in her perch....
--You sweep her through the wind and take her up in your lap...
She is child......my dear........She is child....
Hold her in your arms to smell her fragrance....
--- the fragrance of love....
---the fragrance of thy soul which was once lost in these greenway bushes....
They were returned to you today as a gift of your childhood…
The longing of being united with her comes back to you…
She is a child my dear…She is a child …
--as She comes back to you…
1 comment:
If I twirl a twig
I am a dreamer,
If I lay down in the sun,
You are no more a shadow,
If I play the harp
You might fall asleep and wake up
With me by your side,
If I write no more words
for today, you shall stay stil;
Do not wake up my friend,
Do not wake up,
You know how many flowers
We have smelled in those days
Getting here.
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