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  >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Community >> ID #1310452  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
Calling Me
For Larry's Campfire
Rated:
E
by
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The autumn breeze whispers my name
as I walk down Turnberry Street.
Nothing will ever be the same,
since I followed my heart's beat.

Stopping to pluck a red rose,
a breeze whips through my hair.
The prickly leaves tickle my nose.
I pause, and can only stare.

So much beauty on Turnberry Street,
I think as I walk along.
Flashing a smile to others I meet,
it's here I know I belong.
© Copyright 2007 SHERRI GIBSON LUVS SP (UN: sherrigibson at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
SHERRI GIBSON LUVS SP has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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