From a distant part
Born of a land in sullen soil
One touch, my roots coil
You have a king's hand
Gold finger tips, in your presence I can not stand
You sing the songs of a tide that pull me in
It's rare, too redemptive to be a sin
Undeniable in your charm
I am enamored, sound the alarm
Slow down, hold me still
When you call my body elates into free fall
Original poetry by KeilaCoateWomack(all rights reserved)
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