Dec 2014
Twirling on moonlit streets
where their shadows entwine
simple as falling water,
in a world without time.
The scent of lilacs arise
a true epitome of spring left
on their fragile fingertips.
where their shadows entwine
simple as falling water,
in a world without time.
The scent of lilacs arise
a true epitome of spring left
on their fragile fingertips.
Another older poem, but one that took quite a long time to construct. The language I used is possibly my favourite... it was very deliberate. Long process, but infinitely delightful. :)
