There in the space between
a touch and wanting, in lights of night sky,
over shoulder a search for stars and wonders,
somehow finds a higher use.
When candle hiss and kiss coincide,
an occult of flesh and will,
within a moon-made shadow
amidst invented songs from
near still birds and breezy leaves,
we make a slow, slow dance, and
dawn... retreats from view
No comments:
Post a Comment