C that girl


Cold were not her eyes
And twinkling stars shone through
True were the words that
Heritaged from her lips
Ears as listening elves
Ringing ripples in my heart
Intense as darkness black
Naive sometimes as a child
Endless was my longing....

... for her mind.

Poetry by Richard
Read 673 times
Written on 2007-11-01 at 00:20

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Ghost of Heino
(the iiiiiii sound escapes me now, escalating rapidly from the low C to the high pitch one) for
I once new a summergirl with the same name.