I just stood transfixed, letting her eyes light
the smothered wick in me that needed the oil of love
with anxious stutter I asked, "Is your name Grace?"
"It really is, you are right there, but pardon me
I am Grace Fallen" I took it as a joke and smiled,
"Dear fallen flower, your grace resurrects my crucified spirit"
I have seen them all, blooms, perfect, fragrant,
the ones that catapult one to momentary bliss
with a wink, a word that touches somewhere tender
or share love, fresh like butter, that seems gushing from the depth
that not even expect any kind of reciprocation,
blowing like fragrant breeze, caressing drooping trees.
Women with such luminance ,bless their ilk
whom one only could think as incarnates
came down to lift this miserable world
up from the quagmire, the ***** pit it has fallen
because of the absence of feminine grace in abundance
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
I just stood transfixed, letting her eyes light
the smothered wick in me that needed the oil of love
with anxious stutter I asked, "Is your name Grace?"
"It really is, you are right there, but pardon me
I am Grace Fallen" I took it as a joke and smiled,
"Dear fallen flower, your grace resurrects my crucified spirit"
I have seen them all, blooms, perfect, fragrant,
the ones that catapult one to momentary bliss
with a wink, a word that touches somewhere tender
or share love, fresh like butter, that seems gushing from the depth
that not even expect any kind of reciprocation,
blowing like fragrant breeze, caressing drooping trees.
Women with such luminance ,bless their ilk
whom one only could think as incarnates
came down to lift this miserable world
up from the quagmire, the ***** pit it has fallen
because of the absence of feminine grace in abundance
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