The Meeting Poem by Sambanath Denis

The Meeting



In midsummer afternoon, where the flowers sway,
I wait by the usual shade of a tree.
I pluck the petals of my thoughts, will it be today?
I wait by the river flowing free.
The sun sets over a shadow far away,
Walking slowly into view, is it thee?
As buds seem to bow, as birds seem to pray,
My heart flutters: will it be today?
It is you! As I run, the grasses begin to crease,
A kiss is framed by the setting sun
That dapples in between.

Thursday, January 22, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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