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Chaste eyes trace my limbs, in the deep of woods
swerving like a breeze moist on fields of grass,
His Latin fire, on edge of twilight moods.

Shape of curves fondled like tender morass,
the call of moaning sprawls into full grind
swerving like a breeze moist on fields of grass

Although he’s roamed my shore , gentle and kind
I still pulsate where musk scent trails. Outside,
the call of moaning sprawls into full grind

My fiery sighs reflect a wilder croon
holding breaths captive in a mesh; a glide
of movement’s tempo sing to rising moon

And kindling now our chaste eyes, they abide
love’s virtue wafts from wings of night;
to hold breaths captive in sweet flow, a glide!

Inhabiting one space where gazes meet
Chaste eyes trace my limbs, in deep of woods...
Love’s virtue blazes skin from curl of sheets
His Latin fire, on edge of twilight moods.

The simple times remembered are worthwhile.
Those memories are treasured gifts to keep.
We were innocent and lived without guile.
        

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 Inspiration from Nobel Prize poet, 
Pablo Neruda from Chile. Excerpts from 
his poem 'Ode to Naked Beauty' follows:

Ode To A Naked Beauty

With chaste heart, and pure
eyes
I celebrate you, my beauty,
restraining my blood
so that the line
surges and follows
your contour,
and you bed yourself in my verse,
as in woodland, or wave-spume:
earth's perfume,
sea's music.

----

Terzanelle Time for Joseph May
Old poem  Re-submitted     11/8/2017

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