As the almond tree touched by the
breath of Saint Francis...
I lie in your embrace.
"Speak to me of God..." He whispered to
the tree.
The tree spoke in flowers that
blossomed in the barren
scape of winter.
"Speak to me of God..."
Your fingers whispers as the
breath of Saint Francis.
And in the depth of a winter that
parts only to your touch...
I do.
Love,
Eric
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