Love when harsh feelings die
stirs my heart–
fields, like golden dreams
sticking life
like humming bird’s wings
A bright sun hangs in place
that burns my heart–
feels mighty like olden days
picking red roses
which leaves all pink
reminds me of you
as June’s garden’s full
of odours, when sweet
violets sicken. Then will
you think you’re happy?

:: 10242015 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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