viorel petru trifan

Song - (Talking Through My Hat)

I dream the day
when my hands
are going to rain
and they flush
on your shoulders,
on your breasts,
on your thighs;
when they slip
from your knees
and your ankles
into the land
that bears us
becoming roots;
roots which
will feed
my love for you.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, January 19, 2009

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Pablo Neruda

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