Love and Beauty

Sense of Love

A gray cloud hovers overhead,

Wherever I may be,

But I don't mind the rainstorms,

With you right next to me.

The clouds are filled with light-blue paint—

Pink ribbons sp—lit the sky,

And though I cannot see it,

Your touch will be my eyes:

Soft, like the graze of a feather

From the wings of a noble dove;

It tickles all my senses,

Till all I can sense is love.

Your gentle whisper whips the thick,

Till I see the bright and blue—

When at last we'll have our chance,

To dance in delight of the view.