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Click hereGraben of crimson heather,
Wet and rich in morning dew,
Love waits for the poet,
In crimson heather.
A willow bending to his pen,
With limbs of young golden skin,
Sultry is the weather,
In crimson heather.
Her passion is a manly oak,
One limb she loves to stroke,
Regardless of the weather,
In crimson heather.
Crimson heather in spring adorn,
Covets an oak of autumn’s scorn,
In shadowed summer they play,
Crimson Heather her given name.
I knew a girl just like Crimson Heather---to be in her was soooo inspiring!!!
Another fine write
From your wysiwyg screen;
Inspired no doubt while deep
In Crimson Heather.