Wednesday, 4 December 2013
High as a Kite
Through the wide mountain meadows
Running fingers through
Thigh high grass, laced with blood red poppies.
Smelt the pureness of the air
And felt its fleeting frost kiss on my cheek.
Down beside the turquoise mountain lake,
Waves rippling gently in the breeze,
Put my hands beneath my head and
Shut my eyes, allowed myself to doze
To the lullaby of lightly lapping water.
My eyes and squinted into a blooming sun,
Its petals reaching out to touch
The misty trails of whiteness webbing the sky.
And saw it, sensuously sweeping, whispering to me.
A winged vision, magnificent, majestic, high as a kite.
Prompted by "verse first" at
And open link at dverse http://dversepoets.com