Play with my hair

Eroteme Thinks
Jul 30, 2017 · 1 min read

Poetry is but a breeze

That sways fields

Into your forgotten smile

And lifts frocks

Into peals of sunshine

That warm your heart

Long after the words are gone.

Poetry is but a breeze

That clears its throat

Like wind-chimes hesitant

To find their voice

Amidst nightingales & jays

Yet finds nudge & nod

In invisible caress.

Poetry is but a breeze

Scented with love we made

In lavender fields

And laced with the promises

Only our eyes did neatly

Tie in ribbons & place

On the waft of

The flute a cowherd played.

Poetry is but a breeze

Where you dry your

Yearning eyes & wait

Chanting tattered words caught

‘Twixt the stones of time

Believing I’d appear

O’er the hill if only you

Remembered the last line.

Eroteme Thinks

Written by

I am a collector, a hoarder, an obsessive gatherer. A connoisseur, an accumulator, a degenerate archiver. Whatever is yours was once mine...

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