Tags
beginnings, first kiss, I don't remember, love, nearly always, soul, spirit, touch
permission
was given
without a word uttered
just a hand reaching out
while the world
gathered ground
I may have well asked
tho I don’t remember
much more than the salt
– my name on your mouth
the hint of confession
we’d neither recounter –
as stars fell away
to our tumbling
down
. . .
Can we touch the wind or only let it carry us across the seas?
……I read once that the wind is a soul, and the sound it makes is that of grief for what it haunts but can never hold……..
I like that, it makes sense