#019

Sipping wishful dreams,
your sweetened lips sing
to me: springs of pollen love,
shy summery laughter
clustered, sheathed in gold,
murmers soft on wings so light,
muslin white, faint
mauve of iced-peppermint-breath.

Kiss my soul,
kiss me sweet.

©Mohana Das

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5 thoughts on “#019

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