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krisselle-s-cosgrovePoems
The time that divides us is the speed of sound but always, always -- our world keeps turning round, and round In dreams -- perhaps, we may meet and, yours  a familiar face of warm memory's -- the one, I fondly greet You -- a poet or, painter -- on a Paris street And Me -- mysterious eyes   the kind that secrets always keep a wistful smile of feminine wile cultured, and fair with fine clothes, and red hair Time will slow down and, there will be no divide with fluttering memory's that rush inside I know when I find you and, you find me this time, this time -- this time again our parallel universe's will collide and, they will transcend circling forward, and backward again, and again -- like two cradling swans loving again.
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Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
The Time That Divides Us
The time that divides us is the speed of sound but always, always -- our world keeps turning round, and round In dreams -- perhaps, we may meet and, yours  a familiar face of warm memory's -- the one, I fondly greet You -- a poet or, painter -- on a Paris street And Me -- mysterious eyes   the kind that secrets always keep a wistful smile of feminine wile cultured, and fair with fine clothes, and red hair Time will slow down and, there will be no divide with fluttering memory's that rush inside I know when I find you and, you find me this time, this time -- this time again our parallel universe's will collide and, they will transcend circling forward, and backward again, and again -- like two cradling swans loving again.
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Krisselle S. Cosgrove March 8th, 2015
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krisselle-s-cosgrove
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krisselle-s-cosgrove
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
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