Warmth is your touch while moisture still lingers,

A poignant scene to live for:

Who says this can weaken my fingers,

Isn't your sheer presence an armor.

The mist of absence is showered everywhere,

Let's gather round the fire and sing:

Am not sane to build this mare,

We're like a bird with the wing.

Dreams are shadowing now and then,

Hoping to remain as your prime:

Retribution will come in the hen,

Then be not quiet except use your time.

My soul is waiting longer,

To open the heart to you:

Thus making me stronger,

For your point of view.

Written for "Neoterics Raw Talent E - Magazine" @Facebook