Blog Dis
In every place
2025-01-13
I hunt for a sign of him,
his flesh and blood, his heart of rose.
Nobody is as cherished as he,
who wants me by any means, I compose.
Tossing and churning, he arouses a flood
of drifting moons, crossing over my skies,
my muse is stirring alive.
I only need a quiet place with him,
where we can hide away,
in blessed disguise. There, he'll be found,
life an after-dinner treat
of bitter-sweet chocolate wrapped in gold.
COPYRIGHT © Patricia K McCarthy
his flesh and blood, his heart of rose.
Nobody is as cherished as he,
who wants me by any means, I compose.
Tossing and churning, he arouses a flood
of drifting moons, crossing over my skies,
my muse is stirring alive.
I only need a quiet place with him,
where we can hide away,
in blessed disguise. There, he'll be found,
life an after-dinner treat
of bitter-sweet chocolate wrapped in gold.
COPYRIGHT © Patricia K McCarthy
