We may be like leaves upon the wind,
Each dancing towards our fated patch of earth,
Leaving in a gust of slanting rain
Or at some sunlit touch, our place of birth.
Vivid memories of life at home,
Early love, most vivid love, of you,
Your arms the world, your touch our organ tone:
One sea of bliss beneath all that we do,
Unloosing tears as dark and wide we roam.
Monday, May 4, 2009
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