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Tuesday, February 26, 2013



The wind blew
as I held her hand;
scent of jasmine 
intermingling among juniper trees.
Branches swaying 
to the sound of flutes
played by the ancients and
felt within the stones;
vibrating into the heavens
speaking to the stars. 

The moon shone
as my fingers glided
through her hair;
golden rays of passion
lighting up the sky
as if fireflies.

The skies parted
as your lips touched mine:
no committment;
no promises
beyond the passion
of the moment.  

Copyright V. Rose 1999

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