The starry three sisters

The starry three sisters
are rising overhead
and the hot day
is dead.

The winter night chills
and spreads ripe,
over grass and plants.

There’s a playful
charm to the icy wind,
that stir some fallen leaves.

Your smile
has its own warmth
and the taste of your lips,
are sweet and soft.

Your eyes has a glimmer
that sparks to the soul
and where love burns,
no winter can chill.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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