The Sun

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    The Sun


    She follows the sun as it rises
    in the morning sky
    her hair blowing through the winds
    caressing her skin and down her
    body to her feet
    as they run in the sand

    sweating and panting she staggers and
    falls into soft tender arms and is laid down
    and kissed until she is breathless still

    the smell of wildflowers is all around her as
    she looks above her to see the sparkling sun
    and sees not what is caressing her
    melting her into a stupor

    blinking she tries hard to see and feel what
    has her captured and swollowing her
    so deeply into a sensual fantasy while she hears
    the sounds of water and the smell of those wildflowers

    she must remember this place so that she may come
    back to this land and swelter in it's glory
    with the sky beaming down on her warming her

    That's it,it's the sun that has warmed me and left me
    to dwell in it's splender and joy.
    Underneath the morning sun, those wildflowers
    will never fly from my senses.

    Coptright@2010 By Madeline C. Baxter

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    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    mspider50’s Poems (4)

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    My teeth 0
    The Sun 0
    Reaching 0
    The Hovering Sky 1

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