At the touch of you, As if you were an archer with your swift hand at the bow, The arrows of delight shot through my body. You were spring, And I the edge of a cliff, And a shining waterfall rushed over me.
This poem is in the public domain.
At the touch of you, As if you were an archer with your swift hand at the bow, The arrows of delight shot through my body. You were spring, And I the edge of a cliff, And a shining waterfall rushed over me.
This poem is in the public domain.