Wilst I think,
And sit and dream Within the forest,
soft footfall comes up Behind me,
as I think.
A soft cool hand touches my shoulder
and whispers like the wind enter my ear.
Her perfume preceeds her words,
her intentions reflected ,
in the calming mist.
Like dust, sleep overcomes me,
as soft Secrets fill my thoughts,
the hand releases its elfin grip,
And I drift into sleep...
Marcus
Books in PDF format to read:
Tuesday Lobsang Rampa - Chapters Of LifeTuesday Lobsang Rampa - I Believe
Paul Foster Case - The Life Power
