Silver Hanging on the Vine
Casual wind to talk out loud.
Sleeping the silver moon lining as a thin trace mark.
Curves of the world are blown to catch the beating light.
The sun sleeps and wind slides through a moonstrike,
with upturned shoulders.
Light slides on dew, on bended knees.
Longing for the never known.
Hung from the shimmer and shine they stood.
Loveliness at night.
Breathless beneath a wistful moon.
Someday you may contrive to stay.
The swift silence fall quite forgot the mirth of the earth and sky.
I am not as old of noonday in years and tears.
I'll love you.
Sleeping the silver moon lining as a thin trace mark.
Curves of the world are blown to catch the beating light.
The sun sleeps and wind slides through a moonstrike,
with upturned shoulders.
Light slides on dew, on bended knees.
Longing for the never known.
Hung from the shimmer and shine they stood.
Loveliness at night.
Breathless beneath a wistful moon.
Someday you may contrive to stay.
The swift silence fall quite forgot the mirth of the earth and sky.
I am not as old of noonday in years and tears.
I'll love you.
This Poems Story
a picture window of nature on life. thank you.
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