top of page
Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness.
steve a. manolis poet
As if one were to throw a pebble in a mirror-still lake
Or become the wind in a field of wheat
Waves sending ripples along endlessly,
Like the flow of my heart beat,
Or the calling of some lonesome road
Leading through hills rocking me to sleep
Gently swooping up on side softly rolling on the other.
The silence breaks with the stillness of your image
Or of me, falling in love over and over again
bottom of page