Tuesday, 1 November 2011

Blossom Kiss

No picture, if I write poems about my dreams I don't tend to like having one because it doesn't match the one in my head. 

It was the sweetest kiss
his lips like a blossom 

pressed just against mine 
his eyes were brown
so deep, and so kind.

We were sat down in the street
 I leaned my face to his 
and knew I was his to keep 
but I woke up
and realised I had been asleep. 

His face is blurred 
lost in my dreams 
I wish I could find him
but I don't know if he's real
it just feels as if he is
because of that tender
blossom kiss.

No comments:

Post a Comment