deepundergroundpoetry.com

In the crisp of the breeze

in the crisp of the breeze
he feels her all
warming a hardened time
resetting a restless mind
bringing air to a need
a toll begging to breathe
 
she breathes
and he sees . . .
and he feels . . .
blinded no more
by the rain nor the roar
of the pain nor the past
 
she wraps in his pores
and this much he knows
the temptations grow,
deep in a skin
once peeled and consumed,
 
floating away
in a small red balloon
 
up to those clouds
where rain once befell
with futures bestill
 
serenading the air
where life
won't disappear
 
 
 
 
 
 
JusTim_
Written by JusTim_
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