[ 1. 14. 15 ]
my love, with her eyes on winter midnights!
let me turn your head with talk of summertime,
as long as i'm permitted.
let me take your hand in mine,
point out every hue of blue
that slides through the sky,
and whisper the meaning of each.
as long as i'm permitted, i will
bring your eyes back to the sunrise
debuting on the horizon anytime
midnight seems to last a little too long,
as long as you'll let me turn your face from it
and let me bring you back to sunshine.
YOU ARE READING
past oblivion.
Poetry"what can i really say?" used to be my words, when i didn't know as much. when i got older, i responded to myself. "everything." now, i realize that i can use my breath to speak on everything in existence, from dust on jupiter to the depths of hell...
