Snow fresh fallen by a frozen lake,
Brown rivers flow, my thirst unslaked,
Resting by banks of pink whose foundation quivers,
Warm hands on mounds of frost, feel the earth shiver,
To thaw the fields, the Sun I'll make,
A fiery core burning, her soul will wake
Submitted: October 16, 2009
© Copyright 2023 GeminiX7. All rights reserved.
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Mistress of Word Play
Sheer elegance. Flow, rhythm, and words were perfect.
Sat, October 17th, 2009 4:40pmA beautiful write.
Susan
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Thanks alot. This poem seems to either get that response or "My goodness, you have a dirty mind!" lol
Sun, October 18th, 2009 5:03am