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Mornings Breath
The first breath of morning
flush upon the skin
like the brush of rose petals
in the wind.
A quietude that cannot be put to words
but felt and understood
in a precious moment
where all stand still at peace
A subtle realization
all too soon lost
a beauty of the harmony of the soul
Gentle caressing
as the warmth of the sun
seeps into a tingling breeze
not to be rivaled
In an eyes blink
like only a passing dream
it slips away too easily
disturbed, a shatter
like fragile moth wings.
12:36 PM - 8/31/2008 -
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