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Sep 2018
Scorching was the color of toil,
As my feet carried me to and fro
And my hands carried the weight of service,
And my heart begging to be let go.

Alas, through the doors, a drifting breeze,
Filled with aromas, never before known,
And the cool colors of misty blues,
Instantly to her, all eyes were sewn.

I was greeted with the brightest smile,
Colors of a warm sunny hue,
But mystery shrouded her rosey cheeks,
A girl like her takes a table for two.

Yet there she sat, her company a book,
Although her eyes wandered often astray,
Most often at times, meeting mine in passing,
Lonely, they seemed to ask me to stay.

The words I wished I had spoken were left,
As a language conveyed through gestures,
And before I knew she was floating away,
Reminiscent of a distant messenger.

My eyes followed her step by step,
Off to the distant lapping of waves.
Shyly she joined, her soles with the water
She became one of the gifts God gave.

As I watched her blossom under the summer sky
Those deep colored eyes turned to me,
They said that she had no needs any longer,
And I seemed to know we would never be.

And she danced with the waves,
And the waves danced at her feet,

And she played in the sun,
And the sun played with her hair,

And her hair framed her face,
As the delicate portrait of nature’s beauty.
Written by
S Rose
  601
       Fawn, Carrie Crusoe and MicMag
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