Therese Gramercy . . . the girl named Trees

Ice Sculpture

Free Kiss

Sailing across the tranquil sea
from a faraway land tomorrow in time,
in a due course, without tacking, straight for me,
comes the whisper of a love that can never be.

I can still sense your energy, steady and true,
as I recline on my pillow and turn to my side
while the love from that breeze encircles me
and I snuggle down deep to daydream awhile.

A brush of the lips, a free kiss, if you will,
sent our thoughts of our linked love skyward to fly
on the wings of song birds traveling together in time,
one open heart to another, separated only by miles.