In Fields of Poppy

For me her dark skin is a hymn to the night no such evening could ever produce such a sweeter tone a lovely seduction of light... A divine pleasure like a wintry fireside I burn candles with her at four O'clock with shutters closed curtains flowing to the floor.. When we love the wind and rain rage audibly about her touch and opium kisses bring the calm of a dove her mauve lips of grapes... Losing myself in her ebony eyes who would strip a rainbow of it's color or remove the silver lining from a cloud? Should i deny myself of her lovely flower just because it is a different color? she brings a haunting melody in the wind my labyrinth of desire laying in fields of poppy...