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
touch
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
goodbyes

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