Tags
almost always, breath, destiny, it's what I do, life, love, sometimes, soul speak, truth, willing me home
she worried
o’er his story –
wept most every night
heard his songs
long after
he had played
she made her bed
but dared not rest
she woke within a dream –
was there she found him sleeping
peacefully
her destiny
a reason meant
for letting go
for letting in –
she came for but one touch
and he was saved
. . .
Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.