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 Oct 2017 Starr Bright
wordvango
Fifty-nine hard seems short now years
today heard about a massacre
Fifty-eight, so far have died,
all strangers to the psychopath
who mowed them down
and I sat stunned crying
then heard about Tom
and tears fell down my face over my hands
fifty-nine known just today lives taken
so much more I sit listening to Last dance
with Mary-Jane
thinking of  everyone who died today
and didn't make the news but
i cry anyways
Love whispers upon a breeze
as I feel your soul touch mine,
savoring every sweet word
like the taste of honeyed wine.

Let the moon and stars witness
loves pure and greatest design,
as two souls come together
and gracefully combine.

Take me into your arms
embrace me through the night,
love me until dew soaked flowers
sparkle in the morning light.
~
The warmth of water
standing face to face,
lovingly holding close
hearts begin to race.

Eyes meeting eyes
the world disappears,
a beautiful song
the only sound to hear.

Lost in each other
finger traced lips,
warmth of the water
a passionate kiss.

The touching of souls
nothing could compare,
the true beauty of love
everlasting moments to share.

The warmth of the water……*
~
 Oct 2017 Starr Bright
Melissa S
Here in this place
There are
Eyes that read us
Words that hold us
Sadness that tugs at our heartstrings
Hearts pining for love
or just the loss of it...
Lovely and sometimes tragic visions
Displayed to heal our souls
Cleanse our thoughts
Take back control
Seductive musings that leave us tingling
Creative thoughts spilled out in delicious form
Memories (good or bad) that float around
and descend like the wind
This is where we offer ourselves to the world
Hoping for compassion and understanding
and in kind to return the favor
This is where we learn
That we are no longer alone
We leave small pieces of ourselves behind
To go back to one day
or
For others who are seeking to find
Here in this place
“We leave something of ourselves behind when we leave a place, we stay there, even though we go away. And there are things in us that we can find again only by going back there.”
― Pascal Mercier, Night Train to Lisbon
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