Heaven touched my face and lips,
as dew in gentle spirit’s kiss.
It rushed these Petals here for the bliss
that I might feel the soul of such wish.
Only in the gentle midst
Of sacred gather in those mists,
would I come to find the rustling hush
that follows love’s first sacred rush.
That and all born tender such
as Heaven finds my Hearts’ love touch,
is wondrous, kind and dear to the tips
of soul met parts of this Heart, when kissed.
©2012 Linda Willows
Photograph by Esteban Rios