Taking Things Slow
Whistling, you bring a smile. Our few minutes shared, Is like hours of knowing, Your warm smile, Gentle touch, Leaves me glowing. Long talks, On the phone, Becoming a must, Friendly walks, Holding hands, Building trust. Taking it slow, Not easy though, Keeping things at a hault, When you held me, As I cried, The one kiss was no one's fault. Just your lips, On the path of the tears, Softly trace, Lightly feathered, Like warm rain, On my face. Written December 26th, 2001 © on Dec 26 2001 12:20 PM PST, Phyllis Thompson 18 • 0 • 8
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"Whistling, you bring a smile...."