soft
candle's
glance
on
amber
rings

the
moist
temple
where
­blon­d
hair
clings

dark
whiskey
eyes
under
chandelier's
swings

t­he
­single
note
where
a
cello
sings

i
stop
and
contemplate
these
­th­ings

unlike
puppets
we
had
no
strings

no
we
had
golden
nighte­n­gale

wings


soulsurvivor aka
write of passage aka
invisible inc
(C) 8/32/2015


a poem about my first love

i still think about him
from time to time