powerbella 43F
74 posts
3/31/2006 9:45 pm

Last Read:
4/2/2006 10:21 pm


Words, you say, you don't play
But how is it possible then, if every day
Your lips are rounded in a splendid syllable array
Of consonants embracing subtle vowels
Rendering garrulous gondoliers of candlelight and cabernet?

I hear in your soft-soaken eyes the language of lenitive cries.
I taste on the tip of your tongue
the wisdom of age, yet so boisterous and young.
I feel in your flaunting follicle the truth so naked, so symbolical
of words uttered only by an oracle.

You are the words, you are you
You don't speak, you're spontaneous and true
You shower out your sentences in Shangrila
Until it echoes through the sanctum
Of my innermost
You are my words, my all, my coast to coast

* A midnight poem for the man that conquered my soul....

rm_fransi19662 50M

4/1/2006 10:42 pm

Bella,will def use these words for the lady that won my heart

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