he lies
next to her
on cotton sheets
like silent whispers
his hand
reaches out
for the warmth
of her golden skin
her eyes
close tightly
as she inhales
loves fading essence
she turns
her small frame
so much like wind
blowing the wrong way
she cries
hidden tears
he will never see
fall from her blue eyes
he lies
next to her
speaking of love
but she knows the truth
he lies
By wagner used with the permission of the poet.
All rights reserved
file under;
poetry
Thursday, December 15, 2005
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