she plucks my heartstrings with nimble fingers
so that our hushed whispers under bedsheets
become the lyrics of our fleeting romance
and her cheeks are flushed with the same rosé
glistening within our rounded wine glasses
which twinkle under the blazing sunset
as she leans her head against mine.
YOU ARE READING
Coffee Culture
PoetryIn which tiny snippets of time are cut and pasted together. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Poetry #30 (29/01/19) © 2019 evethespy. All Rights Reserved.
