A poem I wrote last night about the expected arrival :)
Sweet stranger
What tales yet to be written will reside within your eyes?
Will the scent of your soul
be sweet?
have the fragrance of a cut lawn
on a summer's day?
or crisp?
with the sharpness of a
frost bitten morning?
Or some other flavour
yet to be discovered
and savored?
Who will you be
sweet stranger?
What will you bring?
Where will you go?
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