Sunday, February 19, 2006


The way I feel when I am in your eyes,
I become liquid longing - liquid blue.

It is how I reflect in winter, like a drop
of wetness in the center of the boughs.

Perhaps it is the way my spine aches
beneath your voice - pulling each goose

bump from my flesh. It does not matter,
our thoughts and desires are as one:

we will rise beyond this city, place our
hands where the season cannot reach,

where we are warmed by sunset’s fire,
like poetry or the stir of summered grass.

And there, in that moment, our bodies
will touch tightly, to keep out the cold.

5 comments to Cher:

Lost Days said...

In these eyes of stunned admiration,
seasons cease to exist, there is only
a blazing summer of discontent,
fire-kissed moments of temporary
slendor, parched passions reaching,
searching, suffering for fruition,
yet each wordly touch is an eternity,
a momentary forever worth dying for..

ryan said...

roses are red,
violets are blue,
your poem is sweet,
and so are you.

Cherilyn Ferroggiaro said...


ryan said...

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Your poem is sweet,
And so are you.

Cherilyn Ferroggiaro said...

Awww- hahaha :)


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