In time, even statues fall in love.
Standing and gazing long beside each other,
you share air, sounds, space and time.
You soften. Fingers merge with hair and,
gallery closed, hard edges become soft flesh.
Time and Love
In time, even statues fall in love.
Standing and gazing long beside each other,
you share air, sounds, space and time.
You soften. Fingers merge with hair and,
gallery closed, hard edges become soft flesh.
Writing the Day 