Fervour


So then it dawns again the pales of a lingering pause,
oh to beckon the fact that it lies so far, far away.
It’s a familiar scent only for what’s not there,
the toing and froing of an unsolvable beat.

But from time to time she does appear,
her hands so soothingly soft with grace.
A voice that brings calm to a world full of fear,
and eyes that carry me to the deepest depths.

Its in those moment does it all so seem,
like the fragrance of being blooms of spring.
How it carves out the pieces of my heart below,
that have fallen beneath what I might once have known.

Oh to find comfort in a feeling beyond the mind,
toying with the fibres that resonate day-to-day.
Yet in those hallowed moments that lie so far away,
I’m brought back to that feeling of warm embrace.

And even with a fervour that fires so wistfully fleeting,
it sparks a resonance of undying, impulsive energy.
Regenerating animation in a receding soul,
the familiarity of her hue plays its healing tune.

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