Pupils dilate while index fingers
twirl loose strands of hair.
A valley, damp...gentle peaks,
pointed hills.... succulent and bare.Engulfed by abundance while at
a picnic, seconds transformed
into minutes. The grains of sand
that slip through the fingers
are regarded as infinite.A placid lake, secluded and
distant, a place where private
thoughts ensue. The memories
of you still linger as well as our
rendezvous.
twirl loose strands of hair.
A valley, damp...gentle peaks,
pointed hills.... succulent and bare.Engulfed by abundance while at
a picnic, seconds transformed
into minutes. The grains of sand
that slip through the fingers
are regarded as infinite.A placid lake, secluded and
distant, a place where private
thoughts ensue. The memories
of you still linger as well as our
rendezvous.
This is where I will eventually have to explain the euphemism "pointed peaks" to several Quasi Pundits.
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