Awaiting by the window my love you know the picture window
the rain drizzles down; I trace them with my finger tips
I lose the touch when the dropp becomes a line
I trace the dropp and how I wish it were your lips
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Very sensuous poem, i love the description of the wind through the 'tattered trees'. Some beautiful imagery in here. Look forward to reading some more of your work...
all lines are beautiful..but the last line''will i? ' gives and unlocked the honesty inside the poem..grace