Promises. . .

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A Chance For Love. . .

Each time is a new time,
cast in the shadow
of a rock, a cave,
or even a cove. . .

Simply set and
inspired by a rolling coast,
a sunset, a glimpse
of a new place. . .

New tidings of good cheer,
a glass of sweet wine,
robust, quaffed in slow gulps
but favored by a thirsty throat.
Ever new, ever fresh
as a new beginning.

New worlds,
hammering their impatience
with promises;
limited only by how much

we are ready to forget.

One Response to Promises. . .

  1. Maria Wulf July 20, 2016 at 1:30 am #

    Beautiful Veronica. Thank you again.

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