Posted by Admin on 23 February 2008, 12:00 am
The you whose lips I press,
the you whose hand I hold;
the you whose fond caress
turns leaden heart to gold:
the you whose voice has spun
some wizard spell by speaking;
the whole of these, yet none,
the you I’m ever seeking.
T. C. Hudson
© T. C. Hudson.
Village
Parish Council