Warmth is your touch while moisture still lingers,
A poignant scene to live for:
Who says this can weaken my fingers,
Isn't your sheer presence an armor.
The mist of absence is showered everywhere,
Let's gather round the fire and sing:
Am not sane to build this mare,
We're like a bird with the wing.
Dreams are shadowing now and then,
Hoping to remain as your prime:
Retribution will come in the hen,
Then be not quiet except use your time.
My soul is waiting longer,
To open the heart to you:
Thus making me stronger,
For your point of view.
Written for "Neoterics Raw Talent E - Magazine" @Facebook