This blog is dedicated to all things simple, old, serene, classical, and romantic. It is an attempt to recapture the simplicity of days gone by, when happiness could be found in simply lying in the grass and writing poetry. In honor of the years that came before us, and in hope of reclaiming a bit of their simplicity, I dedicate "That We Were Butterflies." WELCOME!

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"Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music - do I wake or sleep?"
~ John Keats

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Sonnet To My Soulmate - Sonnet No.9

For Mike
Dear skin and hands and all things sweet and pure
containing legends deep within the bone,
and holding old romance in their allure
pull me in dreams of you and me alone –

Alone in white rooms, fantasized by me;
alone in orphaned gardens, saved by you;
alone in white-washed castles by the sea;
alone in meadows pale and soaked in dew.

The beauty of your life is intricate
although you may not see its rambling grace;
you’re made of candlelight and fires lit
to warm the pallid shadows on my face.

My spirit flies to you and now I’m whole,
and sweetly, gently, I embrace your soul.

3 comments:

  1. Truly lovely. You have a genuine poetic gift.

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  2. Sweet, and pure, and lovely--just like your soul!

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  3. Thank you both so much; it makes my heart warm to hear it! <3 xoxoxoxo

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