「 BLOG 」
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
「 Fond 」
when love,
you draw nigh
slay me not with goodbye
your beauty,
no tongue can speak
for even the winds have stuttered
your skin,
is gold
like smooth wine at night
sunlight's pleasure and delight
for your eyes,
has had the moon weep
a wish if he could make,
to keep them awake
each and every night..
Labels: poetics