Weather

This weather is perfect for sitting in,
With a lover,
Holding her hand,
Stroking her hair, yearning for no other

That weather was wonderful for making love in.
With a lover,
Holding her closely as the pair became one.
Glaring intensely into his darker then mahogany eyes.

His weather was astounding to walk along side the shore with,
Every individual ray of sunlight,
Incandescently gleaming upon her sun kissed skin.
How she yearned the never returning night.

Tonight’s weather was typical of the feelings inside.
Rain hailing, on her face, but maybe she cried?
Though now it was made obvious she could no longer hide,
Alas she had fallen to a coil of meaningless lies.
Saturday, September 9, 2006
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