![]() Spun Web of Gypsy InvitationA Poem by Neva Flores Smith - Changefulstorm![]() Our eyes become the surface of our souls, greeting what we see floating on the winds of change....![]() ![]() New colors embrace the memory of life’s soil while looking at promises that rush through our veins. A tune is heard from our hearts' circling places in time where our eyes become the surface of our souls, greeting what we see floating on the winds of change. Clearly visible as separate bodies held on a spun web of gypsy invitation, why then do we only remember the perfect peace of how our minds meet. You touch each breath I draw in as if hunting down my despair until it becomes as smoke with leaving feet. Before the stars were chiseled into an age that held us captive, sleep was where the light of the moon played innocently. Father Fate swirls, renames himself with each breath I take, keeping time for the promises of true love that still sing out to you and me. © 2011 Neva Flores Smith - ChangefulstormAuthor's Note
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32 Reviews Added on November 7, 2011 Last Updated on November 7, 2011 Author![]() Neva Flores Smith - ChangefulstormGAAboutHello, I am Neva, 4i, from Atlanta, Georgia. My latest book and videos: My latest book - Mailing Letters to the Moon rm_f1st('6','182','true','false','000000','av2j3.. more..Writing
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