Love.

By
A hand reaches down to stroke my hair,
lightly, softly, with the gentlest of care,
The tears have dried at longest last,
The breeze it seems, has erased the past,
A chilly, autumn, summer day,
Light and sound in a large array,
A mosaic of life, the color is bound,
I have found the energy to trance and tround,
In the falling rays of light,
Mandarin,
Fuschia,

Poppy,


Azure,
A golden heaven to display life's purity,
Long fot the simplicity,
Love.





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