Gentle, sweet breeze,
kiss me on the cheek, please,
and tell me which way
I am supposed to go.
If I feel your mountain kiss,
a little brisk,
as it rolls
from the peaks,
past the cliffs,
I will go west
and give you a kiss
of my very own.
The corners of your smile twist,
like the sea’s endless
ebb, flow, and drift…
I will savor the sea-salt hints
on your glistening lips
and press my feet
into the wet sands,
soaked by the Pacific.
It always seems
that the lovely breeze
calls me to the west,
and westward I will go.
©️ Obol, 2020.
One thing I adore about your writing is your ability to perfectly blend nature and emotions. It’s magical, really. -sigh-
Thank you, tara