Her

Her

Slipping through the misty glade
Slipping carefully,
Through the frost white tracks she made,
And thus she came to me.

“Take my hand and please do follow,
Follow through the field.”
She led me to a shady hollow,
And in the shade we yield.

“Take my hand and guide me,
Through your soft and tender walls.”
And in the grass she found my key,
And they fell like water falls.

Gliding fingers so gentle and soft,
Gliding for nothing else.
All inhibition held aloft,
Feels those white fingers and melts.

Clinging to the only sense,
That stems from souls true love,
And then it spreads it’s white wings hence,
To soar to stars above.