Thursday, February 12, 2009


Another night has arrived. The sky is deeper than the pacific ocean and the breeze is cooler than the gesture flowing through the cracks of your window. The moon is full and the little stars are looking like a bunch of millions of pieces of the moon. The crickets will be singing tonight to the tune of our voices. We're lost on the field, under the enduring stars- close by his side, my arms stretching far across his chest.
Tonight, his arms will be my pillow, and his body will be my armor.
His eyes will be my ocean and his lips will be my boat.
His hands will be my treasure and his heart will be the key.
His voice will be the Goddess and his whisper would be like the breeze.
His temperature would be my summer and his touch will be my winter.

1 comment:

Renee said...

Okay this is what I think you should do.

Compile your poems or little stories. Keep them all together. But something like this one entitled Tonight, I would send off to Seventeen magazine and see if it would get published.

Love Renee, I think this was brilliant.