Do you long to be kissed like a wayward girl Full of passion, ardour, fire? Do you yearn for pushing, pouting lips To kindle more than desire? Of touching faces, skin on skin And breath a mingling swirl? Do you long to dream in a heady stream, you giddy, wayward girl?
Do you long to exist to your fingertips With skin that is fit to burst? Do you yearn to break out in a wild, rash dance With steps that are unrehearsed? With sudden motion, thrilled, compelled And completely in a whirl? Do you long to run with your face to the sun, you giddy, wayward girl?
Do you long for the sand between yours toes As the tickling tide recedes? Do you long to be drowned in warm new grass Clothed just in perspiring beads? With only this day, this hour, this breath And this kiss causing toes to curl? Do you long to be young, with your songs unsung, you giddy, wayward girl?
I can't remember when I didn't write poems but as I've got older, I find they spill into my head, often at inconvenient times of the morning! I use to write them on my way to work, hence the title of my blog, but now I've given up to go trekking around in a campervan with my husband. Plenty of time to reflect on the world, though I don't claim to understand it any better....
what is her fault? just ”being a girl”. Took her to the worst, left nothing to curse. No sense nor an idea, why and what is going on her. Calling out mom, wished hearts would really connected. considered her an
All braced to face the day, The diurnal engine ignited, Gently revving up, Barging into the quietude Of the colony, With a daily prayer escaping His mumbling lips, As he steered mildly Into the road, To see a car pulled
An innocent small girl is crying on the roadside her face seems very candid and expressions look naïve, but nobody knows the cause of her sadness and and no one can ever feel the hidden wounds inside her heart Why