Her Touch

A poet I once knew:

I fashioned my heart a garden of dew,
A liquid monument of poetry,
But then she touched it and away it blew
Like rain in the sky of eternity.

And a philosopher:

My mind I erected as a statue
A powerful witness to certainty,
But then she touched it and burning it blew
Embers in the heart of eternity.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s