Senses Poem by Stephen Shepherd
Senses
Bland, colourless, empty and silent.
Until.
The softness of a whisper, a declaration of emotion,
A sweet scent held until the waking light,
Radiant warmth for the cold winter night.
Comfort is taken for granted when you can't sleep.
When days pass in a blur, and in the dark you no longer have her.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: reality
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5/28/2024 1:37:14 PM # 1.0.0.1119
You've always got me sweetie: * xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx