As lifeblood drains and dries in aged veins,
as breaths become compressed in heaving breasts,
when racing steps slow down to stumbled strains,
can aching hearts respond to love’s requests?
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How can one know one oak from the other if it hides beneath it's dark limbs and tricky leaves? An oak can provide safety but can also crush those spirits underneath who live in fear already. Let sunlight in on doubt and life will grow
The theme through this one is so well-hone (smile) that it sits on the page like a complete entity, speaking its one singular thought, that of age still accompanied by a steadfast heart; perhaps some degrees less exciting than writing about two young things, panting after one another; but also more restful and mature and calm..
I like that an oak tree awakens to Spring like a lover's presence causing blooming, coming alive, etc.