Source -selfmade

Whims of the heart

The wave of the pulse hops merrily,
the mouth is always blooming.
Just a sip from this spring
watered abruptly in the fast wind,
every dry soul ground.
A gear races in my chest
constantly hot and agitated,
totally lost in love.

Something gnaws and caresses so incredibly dearly,
in which it says what there are no words for.

Only nougat time in the wind of flowers
before you find yourself again.
As long as you dream yourself wet
and holds every position praiseworthy.
It is the clearest power in the world.
Fun and fun not missed.
Moans and steams and reared up.
There will be light for a kiss.

And even if the waves of the body turn gray,
one is never old enough to love young.
Calm purity also wants to see roses.
Entangling, wandering, in firm trust,
afterwards there is sniffing and writing.

© by Rob de Roy

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