Posted by hiddenhurt on December 1, 2016, at 17:42:22
Sometimes a breeze blows
As if some small thing
Has fallen in love with me
And on her small wing,
Has flown up beside me
Trying to see
What sort of thing I am,
And what I could be;
But just as I don't,
Neither has she
Any sense that's well-suited
To comprehend me,
So touch we can only,
And in touching we share
Our meeting, our greeting,
Our brief breath of air,
Before we go separately,
For dream or pray,
Love found is rarely
Love able to stay.
poster:hiddenhurt
thread:1093332
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20160906/msgs/1093332.html