Lilibeth Truno


In the bush of mind and lull of gentle breeze whispers into my ear
thy name lingers a lullaby that puts me into slumber in the heavens.

I may Michael Angelo though not, to paint thee my love,
A portrit of your charm, but in my heart lovers sculpted your smile
your shape, your kiss and the being that is you.

As I lay down the verdant fix my eyes upon the block vast of diamond velvet

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