Angel
January 22nd, 2009 by Karen
Bright thoughts of you illuminate my soul
as unquenchable as fire, as unchang’ed as the soothing breeze.
Speak not, sweet angel, of the tragic shards of night,
nor of the passing of the stars,
but of the passionate hope met in the dawn of morn.
While soft lips whisper passion
driven by a feign’ed no so little meant and coy,
thusly spake leads ever onward to the gentle violence of joy.
11/29/07
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