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He speaks as a prophet
His mouth feeds her starving spirit with his words
She listens like a child
Lost in him
patient, adoring
Like a guiding light to a ship
She seeks him
His music is a symphony
His voice like an angel
Every note a breeze to carry her wings
He sings, she soars
His hands heal her soul
Like a medicine man, he is welcome
She is healed
He moves, ever aware of her
His breath warm, like wine sweet, upon his lips
Upon her body, momentarily
She tastes, she is whole again
Drunk with life
He is the storm that awakens her
The rain she dances in
And so he leaves as a storm
Remnants of his presence everywhere
Throughout her heart, her spirit
Devestation until he is once more

Babe Giselle M. Campolito

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The following comments are for "She"
by Babe

I enjoyed the poem and the imagery. My only suggestion is to break the thoughts into smaller bites, as this seems like a giant run-on sentence. I think it would read better in stanzas.

(Devastation is spelled wrong on the last line...)

You have a keen eye for word play and imagery.

( Posted by: TheGadfly [Member] On: November 10, 2004 )

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