Kiss me with lips so tender and passion so wild.
Here beneath falling flakes in an echo-less
moment of divine beauty. Kiss me, on ancient
grounds, feel the essence of ancestors,
feel the whispers of our druid sisters as they
chant an incantation of love upon winters breeze.
A promise of springs new born breath blossoming
within our hearts. Kiss me,
kiss me with passions embrace, with a joyous love
celestial in nature transcendent in beliefs listen
beyond our realm to the beat of a folktale long ago told
of fairies wings and glittered dust of finest diamonds
sprinkled upon the young at heart and old of soul.
Oh kiss me, here beneath falling snow, oh kiss me,
dear love, kiss me.
Karen Hayward ©2016 (Image and words)