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Windmills

Tags: love

In my memories, I reached back
into the archives of my knapsack,
as if I had lived the essence of you,
and the rising tides...
eventfully they do.

All the while with smiles you cast
upon amber meadows down below,
with gentle kisses come my way
as clover dance and rosewood sway,
and the sea-bells rang.

As mist of the waves blow caroling of thee
I write of our golden rings,
setting sail for distant horizons
on God's sea,
And the windmills of our minds.

The wash of hues on the setting dusk
like psalms of songs painted on canvas,
the way I vision it through the window glass,
and the rising tides...
eventfully they do.

 

 

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