When the fields
Have drunk enough rain.
And the flowers
Shake their petals
At emerging sun,
To stand tall again.
You will glide
Like a breeze and run
Through meadows green.
Rippling that floral canvas,
In elegance of lily white
You stand before me
No memory so fair
As summer's kiss
On honey hair.
To touch your lips.
In nectar sips.
This lost soul.
A heart song so divine.
Could weep such sweet tears.
When I knew
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Comments about this poem (Mine. by Kevin East )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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