The Gift
it is your formLying asleep (on my pillow),that pulls my soulfrom my heart.it is your breathHeard faintly (over my rushing blood),that fills my heartwith your soul.it is your eyesSeeing things (i cannot)that beckons my approachto your lips.i am isolated in your kiss,frozen in the exploration lenguaof all the words that are not – because to start … Read moreThe Gift