Slight touch. slight kiss, compassion felt
far above, not one smile, only a slight
laughter blowing in the wind.
Come closer, walk not alone the coves
of yesterday, they shower with age
stories to be told, not of life, nor of love
only the broken hearted, leaping from
the cliffs above.
Once in the mountains a man roamed
trapped martin in the winter, wrote
verse, sketched a lovely lady by pencil
under candle light.
His touch was soft, his eyes keen
his thoughts wandered of his lovely
lady far from his embrace, how they
made life a dream.
Now he catches lost memories, lost
in the mountains, writing verse, smiling
to himself, how warm and loving his
love was standing in the mist.
