Friday, October 7, 2011


The raindrops tinkle, ever so light,
The dancing moon beam, playing at night,
The gentle caress, not the tightened hold,
The fleeting glance, not the staring bold,
Not the blinding sun, but the candle glow,
Not stormy seas, but river's flow
Not the rushing waters, but the gentle shine,
Of unshed tears, yours and mine.
Not the spoken words, but the parted lips,
Not the reaching out, but the elusive slips,
Not heavy perfume, but the fragrant whiff,
Not stormy quarrels, but lover's tiff.
Early dawns in the lights of East,
They stir me most, that stir me least.

~ anonymous

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