Gulls cried raucously above as they journeyed to their nesting place. Below, field mice scurried amongst autumn’s detritus. And perched atop the bare, limestone cliffs between above and below, was she – the embodiment of patience
Silent, midnight silk,
starlight eyes in winter sky.
I’m being followed.
The gentle beating of her heart is a balm to my soul’s aches. I burn inside when we’re apart, a thirst that’s never slaked. She shies so softly from my smiles, her brown eyes dance away. She’s had her freedom for a while, but now it’s time to play. A response to Jade Wong’s poem, A Heart. Check it out!