Friday, December 26, 2008

Wayward to wayside

If love started with more then a kiss,
I think I will and always still,
till my heart could never stand to loose,
it burns when we yearn to miss,
Miss the miss beautiful,
Beautiful flower that burns brighter then most, hotter then the erupting sun that feeds my leaves... gives light delightful reason to look at your petals.


Would that black fog that rises above the moon,
then deeper then you will soon,
see the blistering sun reach noon.

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