The Poet

The Poet

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Like Flying by Ronald S. Porter

sometimes feels like flying
joyful eyes are crying
come and take a walk with me
down in green ravines

old wooden bridges span
crystal brooks that babble
murmuring neath the sun
come on, we will run

through wildflower scenarios
and panaramic vistas
that shape shift as we pass
future unknown,gone the past,

we stand here between
slanting slopes of green ravines

kiss me like you'll never
kiss again; hold it long
to make it last, press lips to mine
so if we never kiss again
til the end of my alloted time...

we will make a memory to last
to time of dying, something that
sometimes feels like flying.