Harvest Me
Stories of your beauty
drift down to me like ash
from a fire
I have not yet been warmed by.
Your absence only singes me,
and though I flame
at the mere mention of you,
still I remain unconsumed.
Don't you understand?
Just the wind of your walking
would be enough to release me,
your glance,
enough to wake me from my dream.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at March 26, 2009 12:54 AM
Comments
I like it , an ultra modern poem connected to a website :) cool
Posted by: janice ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](https://www.ideachampions.com/heart/nav-commenters.gif)
at March 27, 2009 09:14 PM
Post a comment
Thanks for signing in, . Now you can comment. (sign out)
(If you haven't left a comment here before, you may need to be approved by the site owner before your comment will appear. Until then, it won't appear on the entry. Thanks for waiting.)
