a soulful tithe

this breathe of mine
that from these soft lips blows
towards you
is lined with a thousand I love you’s
whispered silently
into night…
and this aged head upon which
the white hair of wisdom flows
has grown old
waiting for your next finger’s
and how your body grows, like stars
lit up by adoring eyes-
this longing is but a sweet and
soulful tithe
to gardens flowers and love’s

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s