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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1806538
A lovers start.
In somber light
I often think
Of winter nights before
I lay my troubled
Mind to rest
And sink into
The floor.
The coming chill of winters kiss
Is nipping at my finger tips
So as to warm my frozen flesh
I lay cold hands upon your neck
And sink into a lovers breast.
© Copyright 2011 Morgan Kelley (morganjkelley at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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