Your face, beautiful and untouchable.
A serene silhouette enwrapped in snowy fields of grass-
Fields of white grass enwrapped in darkness,
While you shine above it all.
You stir for a brief second, then fall back into deep sleep.
You mutter some incoherent phrase…
…..and I wish my lips could meet yours.
© Evan Lindeman,2016
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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