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January 14, 2015

 

 

They purr in sunlight’s hardened crust,

when smiles and laughter turn to lust,

and dance around the old mill pond,

arms ever searching to respond.

 

With pressing hopes and expectation;

desire so high, a ruined reputation.

Their love for each, at this time equal;

daring to believe, there’ll be a sequel.

 

Who’s right or wrong? No care right then.

The same line crossed as fellow men,

who look for solace at days end,

in hope to find that special friend,

 

to dance with round the old mill pond;

in search of someone to respond,

with arms entwined til journey’s end,

to make as whole, heartache to mend.

 

 

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