Her hair is made of saffron silk
and sand is in her song.
Her laughter rings with morning's birds
and I'll be there ere-long.
I live among the memories--
she dances with the waves.
I sit; I wait so patiently
and know I must be brave.
My darling, how I miss you still
but know I'll see you soon.
I feel this old heart slowing down
and then--oh, and then
we'll fly together to the moon.
No comments:
Post a Comment