The First Touch
At the window, eyes watch his feet make the plop sound in the
rain. Her still standing feet walks memory’s alley to the first touch of those
hands, those hands holding the umbrella, shielding the face she adores. Knowing it will be a stamp, seared into her
consciousness in all of her soul’s meandering through existence.
2 comments:
Thanks for sharing your inspiration....I found it to be both romantic and intriguing....a wonderful combination!
please drop your link on the WFA56 page so that others may view!
Thanks for joining us this week!
Very romantic interpretation of the image. I feel like reading more...
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