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Sep 2013
One hundred sixty seven days until I am allowed to feel love

Until passion is in my vocabulary
Until my skin may burn like a hot summers day
But I know that the sun is not the source of the heatwave in the South
where the love is a sweet and slow molasses.

For I hail from the North
where the love is cold as each set of eyes
and you think that if you cry enough
the salt water may turn to ice.
© Maxine Rhue T  2013
Maxine Rhue T
Written by
Maxine Rhue T
816
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