Erin’s Heather
Salt on the edges of its leaves.
Miles of purple swaying
With the tips of the ocean’s breeze
The scent mesmorizes visitors
It is the secret of those
Born to it.
Beware of its power
So subtle yet
It can bring the heart of stone
To its boney knees.
Lick your lips now
Do you taste salt?
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It can bring the heart of stone
To its boney knees.
Nice lines.