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mark-john-junor-1Poems
her ashen eyes hypnotize the crisp summer wind catches me i am not stirred from my place at her side deep in thought she twirls a braid of her hair and i watch her warm emotions flowin easy like daylight on her lovely features the day romances its reasons but finally bows to evening tides and begins to retire with the flourish of a well mannered man of leasuire the day walks with the sundown by the seaside town hand in hand and window shop the little shops full of sparkling wonders and rich with old sea tales and lore finally daylight leaves us on the the sand with evening stars greeting each of us with brilliant words spoken to the eyes the night long with its thoughts shared between lovers and there she cupped me in her gentle smile i knew that kind of love once again that a woman gives of her secret heart   like a summer rain soft in touch and swift deep with history's yet to be written and rich with loves yet to be sung and there once again she caressed my cheek with tenderest touch and reassured that all swift summer days contain such equal long nights and she would not sway from her place by my side
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Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
the morning tides
her ashen eyes hypnotize the crisp summer wind catches me i am not stirred from my place at her side deep in thought she twirls a braid of her hair and i watch her warm emotions flowin easy like daylight on her lovely features the day romances its reasons but finally bows to evening tides and begins to retire with the flourish of a well mannered man of leasuire the day walks with the sundown by the seaside town hand in hand and window shop the little shops full of sparkling wonders and rich with old sea tales and lore finally daylight leaves us on the the sand with evening stars greeting each of us with brilliant words spoken to the eyes the night long with its thoughts shared between lovers and there she cupped me in her gentle smile i knew that kind of love once again that a woman gives of her secret heart   like a summer rain soft in touch and swift deep with history's yet to be written and rich with loves yet to be sung and there once again she caressed my cheek with tenderest touch and reassured that all swift summer days contain such equal long nights and she would not sway from her place by my side
mark-john-junor-1
Written by
mark-john-junor-1
59/M/American
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
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