4 Shallow Love Is Like a Reverie

Unflinchingly, you sit in slumbered pose as breath is amber bathed in bright moonlight with rhythmic pulse in time's perspective held, when fragile candles caress tawny skin, you watch the honeyed flame shimmer air. This morphs in shade by tinted cream like jaundiced moths that kiss magenta lips, you tempt my eyes to reflections of shapes that crystallise our naked past portraits, framed like snaps from holidays long ago, remembering a play with mirrored stage each part performed with aplomb then exit, the lines are cliched, stuttered in straw sheets as canaries sing trapped in twisted nets Je t’aime Ich liebe dich Volim te,,, true? Similarly, the lady of shallot cannot grasp or stare at love directly framed by gilt in fields of barley dressed in yellowed gold, are flaxen flames pure cowardice undressed? The tingle tightens nerves in craven stroke that choke a heavy lament played with ease. All time now slows like treacle hours still drip and lemon fires now freeze our close embrace with secret passion's gasp and groan resound towards the helios in heated crests. Now turn away, the ivory flame in wrath dissolves all blackened ash as you depart. I dream a phoenix sets its spiralled flight to golden stars and gilded skies for us, regenerated from dark sunflower fields. 27 April 2019