Hershe Moore Biography

Stop and smell the roses,
taste the nectar of sweet.
Peel back the petals,
tickle your feet!
...

Love is...
That gentle breeze in the air
The essence of you stroking my hair
Similar to the texture of a rose
...

The curtains pull in her scent as it lures me from my bed,
perched in my windowsill
curiosity embraces me on the edge...
What's her name?
...

His kisses pollinate my breast...
against his chest, heaving
breathing in his essence
His presence is demanded by my lips,
...

I wanna go to the place where lovers go...
Where butterflies rest easy on summer peaches,
beyond existence your hand reaches...
you touched me,
...