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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #877563
Tribute to my favorite hippie girl...lil Miss Crossland.
The Breath

Walking high up in the mountains, I feel the wind begin to blow.
Watching leaves scattering in the breeze, with bending trees in tow.
Down the path, along a ways, I see a girl quite fair.
As the mountain winds increase in size,
I watch her breathe the autumn air.

I wish I could be her simple breath, riding along the breeze.
Frolicking along this simple path, somewhere between the trees.
Riding her breath, I would caress her skin, softly touch her hair.
I would kiss her with the softest touch,
Bidding farewell, I would ride her air.

Going down the mountaintop, I’d begin to increase in speed.
Lazily wandering around the earth, paying time no heed.
I’d wander from the deepest ocean, traveling without a care.
While making soft love to random clouds,
Our offspring being raindrops that I’d wear.

I would travel to many far off lands, sun shining on my back.
Watching it dip below the sea, with the dark turning my life black.
I would find the time to ride the night, my burden alone to bear.
Then I would realize how lonely this life is,
Solitude being the exiled part of a pair.

I’d fly back to her, along that path, with all haste and speed.
Realizing that acceptance, in this life, is all we truly need.
Why do we all walk our paths, with insecurities all we wear?
Working so hard to make a living, we forget to live,
True love in this lifetime, is truly rare.

I watch the girl, as I muse, basking in light shining through leaves.
Thinking of the all the tears and joys, that into our lives time weaves.
I glance at her as I walk, she’s mending in her shirt a small tear.
I walk on with my insecurities for company,
knowing her breath is all we will share.
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