Wednesday, 20 January 2010

Ivory White

Let there be a gentle breeze
To blow through her hair.
And let her fiery locks sinew
In flames so the devil may care.

Her pale skin gives a warmth
No hearth would ever beat.
It is so smooth and so soft
That to touch it comforts me.

Nature graces her visage
With eyes of sea green.
Many nights I have dreamt
We were adrift floating down stream.

Yet I know she is life's meaning.
To keep her would be selfish dreaming.

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