Hold me tender,
the only one I seek:
temporary tear breach.
Dam the rest
as your love ripples,
fills again those crevices,
archaic, getting old.
I long for those fissures
to grave-grow cold.
Your weathered browns
still warm my soul.
(No sadness today, just recalling those times in each season when I needed most, and you drew me near to remind me of the greatest, purest truth I know. ❤️)
Poem and image ©LauraDenise
Laura Denise 
So very beautiful.
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Beautiful!
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