Non-Erotic PoetryMoodsMoods are flimsy, whimsy things
Taken into meandering paths
through verdant gullys
Smattered winds, whispered refrains,
woken slumbers and leftalone stays.
she looked far
He saw her glance
the eyes showed what she is
greygreen
reflected in pools of
gossamer ripples.
Wantings slowly ebb
as desires run their
course.
Once He took
sometimes now
He just gives.
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