Touch Her Yellow Skirt
In a world of pain,
Eyes weep more abundantly
Than an April rain.
I’m searching
For a geranium path
Where I can breathe perfume
And kiss her hand,
Find myself in awe
To touch her yellow skirt.
I wish we both had sunlight and coffee,
Apple pie from a city bakery,
And that we were smiling
Like we never smiled before.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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