Writing for the love of the art. For the selfish reason which is to satisfy my soul. To free my heart, and with ink and paper shall i write my freedom
(*with keyboard and computer sounds too nerdy)
She moves with grace, there is love in her embrace.
The lips of her mouth speak life and joy.
...
How I long to be with you, but time and space divide us.
To run my fingers in your hair, on your soft skin.
To tell you my heart’s desire.
Embrace to our heart’s content
...
Is it the warmth of her gaze, or the brightness of her chuckle?
Is it the sun in her smile, that sends rays into my soul?
...