chopping block romance
I feel the Suns warmth upon my shoulders.
The breeze that caresses my skin or is it a lovers skilled calloused hands,
A moment imagined and a minute for real...
But its an illusion
I dream and I feel.
I feel the suns warmth for some tyme and I think
flowing oceans of love...I sink..
The suns warmth has warmed the sand no longer under feet
and echoes of laughter that mankind cant cheat
Lovers words spoken tenderly yet in a voice thats low and gruff
And I think out loud, to myself,
I dont use my chopping block enough...
screeching emitts from boiling waves
accepting of the warmth it craves
Did the sun warm this puddle,
the teardrop that has dropped?
light of the air;
then rise then popped
the bubbles, the wave, the water, the meaning of dreams
cared for but neglected, the chopping block, so it seems
tossing swirling circling the bubbles oh my
the sum warms my memories of tymes gone by
so leaveing the outdoors I must go back inside
and clear away the unused chopping board I never thought to hide...
I'll put it in the cabinet and get back to it someday
for now I wish the warmth of my lover to never go away...
The feel of the warmth from the light of the sun
My pot on the stove is boiling over
And my daydreaming must be done
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