Linda Marie Van Tassell
A Living Image
Sunset fires gilded upon my fingers and slender wrist.
I feel the warmth of a lover that I have never kissed.
Voice that carries upon the wind, a touch of morning dew,
two blind birds that leave their nests over paths of ocean blue.
The crimson stains of fire are spreading throughout heaven's veins.
The softening breeze that comes with night smells of summer rains.
The burning star of promise folds beneath the sweet winds' kiss.
The winding vine of strawberry wine tastes of endless bliss.
Both the light and shadow dance as though they have always been.
Who's to think that this love is wrong or that it is a sin?
Let me perish in this storm, in the storm clouds of his eyes.
Let me dim a thousand stars, roll the clouds across the skies.
Standing still in the moment, I can feel his presence near.
He's like the wind, the rain, and snow; he's every time of year.
Passion flowers in the night, rising naked from the sea.
The rose is red, grove is green, a garden blossoms in me.
I look across the distance as breezes sweep the billow.
I kiss him in the mid of night, lips pressed to my pillow.
A sigh, a moan, a weeping cloud, and love's entangled knot.
A living image that used to be, never was forgot.
Sleepless eyes close to dream, and the torch of love is burning.
The heart sees light in his love, the truth of heart returning.
The hope of love is found in all, the hope that we might share.
Hand-in-hand we grasp the moon, and stars shine everywhere.
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