Philings

My Phil, to you I’m praying.
While you’re a spraying rain
I am a cup you’re filling.
I call this feeling “philing”.

I blessed your shaking lashes.
Beneath the turning flashes,
Among the solid towers
I followed you for hours.

You burnt my secret fire,
You’ve been my sacrifier.
I’m buried to return all
My philings to eternal.

July 25, 2005


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