Some people
step in the air.
And the summer
cicadas have a
sharp look.
I look at the stars,
pulling me into
a sweet surrender.
Your love is
my weakness.
Your breath in my ear
Some people
step in the air.
And the summer
cicadas have a
sharp look.
I look at the stars,
pulling me into
a sweet surrender.
Your love is
my weakness.
A Wandering Poet 