Sunday, November 19, 2006


She dwells in his embrace
like a dove returned home.

His hands fold like wings
against her back and raise her up.

In his kiss she feels the wild
flutter of sky, in his gaze

the quickening of lightning.

He is the nest
and the edge of the storm,

she's poised like a feather
on the rim.


Blogger Kora said...

pretty... i realy like this poem... i am going to go take a walk now see ya..

11:33 AM  
Blogger burning moon said...

thanks kora. enjoy your walk

4:13 PM  
Blogger Chris Never said...

Wow *soft whistles*, this is excellent Moon,love it.

He is the nest,
and the edge of the storm.


4:35 PM  
Blogger burning moon said...

ta very much Chris *grin*

5:29 PM  

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