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Sleepwalker


And in the darkest sweeping wings is held all probable
The night of dreamings; wished embraces of gossamer senses ponder miracles 
And leave their mark; ever in hope....

She is waiting

Pale in naked moon lit sexual stretches
Fanning shadows curve on satins anguished blue
To subtle bronzed drips rusted rivers
Lay about her in ever flowing delta’s of hair

These the coy covers of shoulders demure beneath their lifting expectation
Quintessence supplicant to floating hands; risen
Her slow beat thumps on a sudden heart
The fleur-de-lis arched beseeching the avid prayer of lips

The floorboards creek

And though through empty rooms the sighs may roam
Though forever it seems she has lain alone
There are eyes, by bat wing devised; by the caverns urgent aphrodisia
He has been gathered by the corpuscle of desire, to come to her

And by each and every silent unspent moan of longing
He inscribed this hours, fretful, reflections of her mantle parted
An eternal caress folded; ingress to her concupiscent heart
Mere Luna beams of dreams of loves physique, his love, made love to her

Dawns dissipation breaths

Remembering the warmth before forgotten days; where separated so
Bathes her awash in amber fire; and traces his finger along her spine
To leave her sleeping in those somnambulist foot prints
Looses in the languid illusive of arms, wrapped in suns breaking

Turning to the light he asks for its edifice, hold fast on waking 
Struggle to define by wanting the irrevocable kiss; pressed to her
A taste recited by those gossamer senses ponder miracles
And leave their mark; forever in hope

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