warm

This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.

I was recently living more comfortably surrounded by secrets... Like dozens of luxurious satiny pillows, they were embracing me from all directions into safe lulling warmth, thus isolating me from the sharp dead-cold edges of the truth hiding behind their endearingly smooth textures and tender soothing colours.Secrets could be so irresistibly beautiful...

... If the dead can come back to this earth and move unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night__midst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours__lways, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or if the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

I suddenly realized I was in California. Warm, palmy air - air you can kiss - and palms.

Tea is just an excuse.i am drinking this sunset, this evening.and you.

Hope greets your desires warmly while doubts insult your efforts bitterly!

There are only two people in your life, they will either give you a negative feeling, or a warm feeling, when you think of them.

Only tears can hear the sound of pain when warm blood reddens discolored stain

Love keeps the heart forever warm.

some words bring warmthjust bybeing next to each other.

A single poemis worth a hundredcozy winter nightskind wordsand healed wounds.

Summer is the time for squabbles. In winter, we must protect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths.

A warm house is the best New Year present for every child!

Let it rain on some days,Let yourself shiver on some cold nights, So when it's Spring you'll know why it was all worth going through.

A warm dead photograph is much livelier than a living cold reality!

all the wordsall the poems know my warm, soft spots.

I have a message for your daughter,_ said Cale. __ am bound to her with cables that not even God can break. One day, if there is a soft breeze on her cheek, it may be my breath; one night, if the cool wind plays with her hair, it may be my shadow passing by._ And with this terrible threat he faced forward and the procession started once more. In less than a minute they were gone. In her shady room Arbell Swan-Neck stood white and cold as alabaster.

my motheris pure radiance. she is the suni can touchand kissand holdwithout getting burnt.