About the Poem
As years go by, passion may grow in much deeper emotional ways than when we are young. Especially if we love the same person as thirty years before.
|by Rosemary J. Gwaltney|
As a window shade
Blown by a sudden breeze;
As a bare leg against smooth sheets;
As a gentle sigh in dreaming.
In a sheening moonlit arc;
In the softest sunrise
Tiptoeing across the mountaintop.
Like the motion of the grasses
When the wind lays them down
Across the meadows;
Like a whisper breath of spring
Unwrapping buds in quiet splendor.
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