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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=417826" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>My Little Cyclone</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My little cyclone, <br>my little storm.<br>It Is autumn, again.<br>Its you, again, <br>and you have layed an unencumbered burden on me<br>by not forgetting.<br>I cant hide it, <br>how you've been playing around my senses lately, no, <br>not like allergies.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I look up to the amputated clock, see its gloomy eyes and sing to myself, rememeber that melody? <br>I thought I could forget. <br>Like clockwork you come running your dress floating above your strong legs, like flowers. returning to our fallowed out fields.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But, <br> <br>You are still out there in the cold, <br>in the darkness which waits at my door.<br>The pure fire that I had made, that morning when <br>I left you there sleeping, has covered up for warmth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I dig callus hands into the moist soil where we had roots, <br>my veins sucking up nutrients to feed my weakened bones. <br>Satiated, I run, with wanderlust, back home <br>to catch the breath you feathered towards me, with hints of oh, pumpkin spices.<br>You are out there! <br>knowing we have lived all seasons in our one, <br>a whole day under the sun, <br>a whole lifetime of everlasting moments, <br>closer than those dying to escape, <br>we have been bored with words, <br>on levels above consciousness, beyond common love.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">bring me your delicate hands, <br>Because, because just knowing you are out there: <br>exploring, making impresions, learning,, <br>and inspiring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To know I had tought you (as you say) <br>the important things in life.<br>To know that I measure my steps to the day I rest<br>at your gate once more, <br>without ruminations on the time, and you, <br>can bury your hands with mine.<br>my little cyclone<br>believe me that will be one of my golden moments. <br>I cannot, my little storm, I cannot, <br>rebuild without your love.<br>I need your hands, your arms, your eyes.<br>I need your your fingers, <br>delicately rubbing my neck through my hair, <br>craddling my jaw, and resting upon my chest. <br>Grabbing my lower lip, <br>your tongue tracing along the dry cracked brim, allow me. <br>nursing my tattered feet (my feet that are bleeding) . <br>I hear the beasts in the alleys, they walk not far behind me, crying. <br>You always seem to destroy me and I am eternally grateful.<br>My little cyclone. my own little autumn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jerome+Moore">Jerome Moore</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=417826" data-title="My Little Cyclone de Jerome Moore" data-description="My little cyclone, 
my little storm.
It Is autumn, again.
Its you, again, 
and you have layed an unencumbered burden on me
by not forgetting.
I cant hide it, 
how you've been playing around my senses lately, no, 
not like allergies.

I look up to ..."></div>
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