Saturday, July 7, 2007
Flyaway Land
Latching my eyes onto his brooding ones
I enter a foreign place with him
Together we soar above the horizon’s green halo
Hand clutched in hand we take on the world.
Arriving at an island of trees
Our wings slow down and drop off
The seas encompass us with its serenity
It fills his eyes with an azure.
The temperature cools and we build a fire
The ashes peel off and wriggle wildly
The warmth heats our proximate bodies
Reducing the lengths between us.
The salty-sweet smell of the sea
With the moist breeze
Unfastens the bolts to the dungeon door
Exposing a new destiny.
Love,
Bi.
Blogged
@ 6:29 PM
Don't let me go -