Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
| Mute Before sunset, before moonrise, when storm clouds cry, I think of you always smiling like morning dew. I have no clue what magic spins from your wand's end; you laugh wherein you make me grin, or smirk, or gush. It's not easy to hide my lust for the stardust caught in your hair. I do not speak. I never share. I do not dare to mouth my thoughts. © Copyright 2021 Kåre Enga [178.145] (19.juni.2021) A pathya vat for
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