Her eyes flash like tears <br />From a tumbling stream. <br />Her hands flutter like doves <br />Made nervous by a changing wind. <br />Her voice strains like a willow <br />Made full by summer rain. <br /> <br />If I were to stoop <br />And drink from those waters, <br />Pluck both doves from uncertainty <br />And rest them to my chest, <br />Wound the tree to bleed the strain <br />And let it heal. <br /> <br />Could I then <br />Drink forever <br />Hold forever <br />Rest forever <br />In the sylvan shade <br />Of the graceful willow?<br /><br />Nomad Omnia<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/-325/
