Softly—

Softly—

She walks toward me
Tiptoeing gently
Afraid she’ll wake me
And flowers of
The misty night sway
Among the lion
Tufts from last year’s
Grassy meadow, and
I sense her mad
Caress reach for me
A millionth time

© 2012 j.a.o.a.
© 2012 Jose' Antonio Orellana Artolozaga