The Color
of Your Lipstick

In the cold evenings of late year,
I dream of being the night air.
Wrapping myself around you,
Flowing lightly across your red lips.
Taking only the color of your lipstick,
Wet from tongue’s tip,
Upon my own lips.
Your soul warms my heart.
Your presence, my compass,
While fall winds whirl us back together.

Rick Dixon signature 2020

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