Flowing, glowing
strands of wheat,
blowing lightly in the breeze.
Jealous summer sky
overcome
by your eyes.
Smooth, clean skin,
sweet scent,
like laundry hung out to dry.
The flavor of moonbeams
cannot contend with
the delicate taste of your lips.
The softness of your voice
more beautiful than
a nightingale's song.
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 11:09 AM UTC
Flowing, glowing
strands of wheat,
blowing lightly in the breeze.
Jealous summer sky
overcome
by your eyes.
Smooth, clean skin,
sweet scent,
like laundry hung out to dry.
The flavor of moonbeams
cannot contend with
the delicate taste of your lips.
The softness of your voice
more beautiful than
a nightingale's song.
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