Longing
How I long to be like the wind,
Blowing softly through your hair.
A gentle breeze to touch your skin,
A silent whisper just to be there!
~
How I long to be the chosen flower,
You pick for your crystal vase.
Placed in your lighted bower,
So I can see your face!
~
How I long to be like a raindrop,
Gently clinging to your skin.
Creating rainbows that never stop,
And happiness within!
~
© Bjørn O. Wastvedt, 2017
|