Thursday, December 3, 2009

An unfinished poem

I just found this poem that I started a few months ago and never completed. I thought I'd post it here and see if having it on my blog would provide some inspiring words to jump to mind so it can be fulfilled.

Your hand on mine,
untouched by time,
we travel down our secret street.

I comprehend,
cannot pretend,
you are my own retreat.

Caress your face,
where time and space,
and touch become white heat.

I hear you moan,
and I postpone,
before the final sweet.

Ah, and now the edge this did require had finally be found. I'll add more to it later if I find it longs for additional attention.

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