The Second

The next kiss,
and I as your guide, my hands holding yours,
guiding you into the woods, through dappled sunlight,
among moaning trees, across cracking leaves,
the scent of life breaking, birthing, burning.

The wind that howls
and shakes the leaves,
the rain upon the trees –
my fingers curled in your hair
time without end.

-Martin Burns

About Martin

I'm just... filling time.
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