I see her in everything
In every color in the trees
As branches point to their leaves
In every feel through the wind
When the race begins
In every splash from the ocean
When coming home is always its first devotion.
I see her when I don't see anything else
When the lights dim
In quiet rooms of vintage trim
When the shadows dance and spin
Gracefully throwing out the images from within.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 2:01 AM UTC
I see her in everything
In every color in the trees
As branches point to their leaves
In every feel through the wind
When the race begins
In every splash from the ocean
When coming home is always its first devotion.
I see her when I don't see anything else
When the lights dim
In quiet rooms of vintage trim
When the shadows dance and spin
Gracefully throwing out the images from within.
