It's raining here in the mountains today. Its a soft delicate rain that barely makes a sound but it tiptoes across the window pane as though it were fingers on a harp. This is the sort of day that makes my passions cry and sing and when they start all amount of poetry becomes real. Hope you all experience these days now and then.
Susan*

The Aura of Love

The power of love is a funny thing
It runs with horses as their stampede rings
The flash of devotion in eyes that are paired
The dalliance of lovers who just barely dared
It's passions that wing like a Pegasus...proud
Drifting with love on the wings of a cloud
It soars with the Woodstork and climbs with a whisper
It sticks to the walls like monks and their vespers
It chants and it purrs...it rings in the night
Love gently caresses the wind and sunlight
Oceans sing volumes with love in the wash
It bleaches old wounds with a healing push
Then kisses away the scars for tomorrow
Love that appears can erase the old sorrow
Trust in this love...then give it your heart
Then every new morning is a new start
Caress in the aura of love on display
Thankful of healing in loves palmed array.

© 2003 Susan K. Rowse