your spoken words
in whispers
cast as spell
pure poetry
making wine of raindrops
fallen from tigerlily skies
dawn on past midnight
where morning glories
dare to dream
echo back sweet
songs of rapture
from your whispers
of my name.
*submitted for review by poetess*
http://www.geocities.com/Wellesley/Garden/4124
copyright by the author, 1999
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