Who am I to write of love as easy flowing streams in sunset valleys.
When love can be many experiences like high tall mountains with snow that sparkle at the top. Love to me is all the senses touch taste and my my you smell wonderful as I breath her soul. Her eyes stop me dead I can't stop watching you.It could be confused past as ghost lingers in time that replays a constant memory. Love can be wonderful but also painful bitter sour like a sharp apple, or is this reality xx
©benfish41
B