She was tequila rose, he the Lynchburg oak. She said more with one look, than any word she spoke. Warmth, emancipated by her soul, melts away at the snow. Revealing a taste of what all want to know.
Tequila Rose
When the Soul Cried Out for Meaning
She was tequila rose, he the Lynchburg oak. She said more with one look, than any word she spoke. Warmth, emancipated by her soul, melts away at the snow. Revealing a taste of what all want to know.
I am my poetry, my poetry is me. I pray what I believe. I believe what I pray. View more posts
Smith Shine Poetry
This is beautiful. Reminds me a little of me.
So happy to read your poetry.
Have a great week.
Oh, good image too.
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Thank you for your comment im happy of your approval im sure you inspire many.
stay safe
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