Guest Poetess & Wild Wanderess, Gwenivere Weiss shares a passionate poem hot of her poetic presses.
You stood before me, held my hands in yours truly. You spoke with an unwavering faith in WE...
Winter is the womb where Spring finds the room, to give way to Summer where she is in full bloom. Then falls into Autumn like the leaves to their resting tomb. Home again. We find ourselves. In the deep Winter of our womb.
She feels between-the-lines, of what others do not express. She reads between-the-wines, for what goes unexpressed. She's a feeler of the world, filled with the wealth of inner success.