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from the forest, deep, she came
      like a jaguar, quietly prowling
         drawn there by my late-day flame
   typhoon in the distance howling

black hair with a coal-blue sheen
      eyes like ink and faultless gold
         linen sun dress, white and clean
   tawdry tan, with charms, untold

white-cap sea foam licked the sun
      then softly tasted sweet, its bright
         slo-melting on that briny tongue
   and sav'ring still, the fading light

there beside the aqua ocean
      palm fronds laid in proper form
         with sublime and torrid motion
   we let loose our perfect storm

high above, the Perseids streaming
      wept the sky, with tears of fire
         wishes granted - we, so dreaming
   meant for fools to thus inspire

flightless angel birthed in darkness
      wrapped me in her pinions, warm
         sacred embers, cold and sparkless
   burning for that summer storm ...

lost in her - my perfect storm.

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