The perfection of a meadow. | Teen Ink

The perfection of a meadow.

August 24, 2010
By Anonymous

The whispering wind caresses his cheek,
as sirius soars his eyes are as deep,
the sweetest of grasses burn gold as his locks,
his promise to me; butterflies from a box,
feather on my pillow, a song from the trees,
remember me softly, the dance of the bees.


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