I still feel your fingers
Rolling across my back
Like waves at twilight;
The inky night of your eyes
Writing poems on my soul-
You were the traveller
And I the ocean navigated;
We didn't need the pole star
To guide us home at dawn..
There were turbulent storms
But the sun always came up;
Lost in the blue vastness
We found each other:
But you were the traveller
And you found another ocean to explore...
~azmina
YOU ARE READING
Of Floating Buoys and Broken Bells
Poetry"Poetry flowed like little rivulets From the ocean that was her soul." ~azmina Our souls dance to the rhythm of poetry. A small collection of my poems that will, hopefully, provide the beats to your dance.
