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Posted: 1/30/2011 - 1 comment(s) [ Comment ] - 0 trackback(s) [ Trackback ] - 0 Likes
Category: Poetry

Mere words somehow a touch it brings

While closing eyes to visions thought

 In dreamlike state the soul does sing

Of haunting needs no longer fought

Perfect, gentle, strong and still

Like ripened roses thorn less stem

To reap rewards of passions till

A silent touch brought unto them

Caressing skin…a minds embrace

Desires of oneness weakness brought

Imagined fingers curves were traced

In wishful webs two souls were caught

 

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