Gifts

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Abstract

shared opened our hearts and brought us moments of hope and forgiveness. Time has not been kind. We walk more slowly now and listen for the sound of the trumpet of death to free us from the flesh that we have loved with passion.</p><p id="424e">Copyright © 2020 by Harley King</p><p id="010c">If you like this poem, you might also like <b><i>Fireflies</i></b>.</p><div id="3dfc" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/firefl

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ies-39ddef1bbd33"> <div> <div> <h2>Fireflies</h2> <div><h3>A Story-Poem</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*ykdwyV9NVcNpHVl9exgRcw.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

A Story-Poem

Canva-Photo by skeeze — 272447

Her lips taste like a cold winter wind blowing across the ploughed prairie farmland. I find salvation in the warmth of her embrace and the softness of her delicate breasts. The gifts we shared opened our hearts and brought us moments of hope and forgiveness. Time has not been kind. We walk more slowly now and listen for the sound of the trumpet of death to free us from the flesh that we have loved with passion.

If you like this poem, you might also like Fireflies.