Linger

Lilies in the valley Swaying in the breeze Cicadas chirrup quietly A blanket under the trees Your arms hold me gently My neck, your lips do brush A glass of wine to share Our love, no need to rush. Lay me back onto the plaid My buttons one by one My flesh yours to love My heart almost gone. DW © 10-1-03 Back to the Poetry Page Copyright © 2003-2004 Designs