Of Late

Last night, saw you walking in that dress
Love, how the wind sang melodies through your hair
There where passions bathed in moonlight by chance awoke
No earthly design could ever capture closely or frame
You appeared and the darkness cleared as I heard you say my name,
The music your voice made in the moment that we spoke
Like a beautiful ghostly kiss, just the perfect touch of fate
Embraces like a certain guess makes, come to visit of late,
Last night, saw you walking in that dress . . .




Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 590 times
Written on 2014-02-20 at 14:11

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