Olivia Chevron

Walking the Vineyards

I want to press my lips
Upon your softened brow.
To taste your saline skin
Smooth as the wines of Do.
I want to hold your hand,
Touch your hair, caress your face.
I want to drink of you.
In wine, a glass, a case.
I want to share my soul
And rest my weary head.
I want to spend the night
Upon your pillowed bed.
Sunday 23 April 2006


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Published on e-Stories.org on 04/25/2006.


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