Wild Memory

The memory of you comes
To my mind like the scent
Of honeysuckles rushing
Towards me riding on a gust
Of wind. Inhaling, all my
Senses of you come alive
And you are here with me.
The pleasure is surreal
And in a brief moment
There is solace. But only
While the blooms remain
And the wind stirs wildly.

Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.

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About Shainbird

"A lonely craftsman putting one word after another."
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