The mirror I stare into,
shows my lovers face.
Her lips, her eyes.
Coloured hues
of red and gold.
She calls me outside,
the first morning touch.
This is the loving season.
And a sway to the truth.
Another autumn morning
The mirror I stare into,
shows my lovers face.
Her lips, her eyes.
Coloured hues
of red and gold.
She calls me outside,
the first morning touch.
This is the loving season.
And a sway to the truth.
A Wandering Poet 