The moment when a pink lily kisses the pond

and the blue and orange sky hugs the knee caps of the horizon

and our love devotion

on white clouds,

 

is your sweet voice whispering

in the ears of my salty soul,

massaging nerves on the edge

of tense cliffs atop waterfalls

and clearly magical green blue lakes.

 

Eyes closed

for your voice will not lead me astray,

and from all of my worries

I know your voice will lead me away,

I skyfall into open arms of fresh wet

and flower scents tickling my nose

 

whimsical as I float

to kiss the lake

of my baptism,

and absorb

your every breath of words.

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