A Love Poem
Gold upon gold,
half-hidden upon the burning aisle of earth.
Sickle points raised heavenwards,
where mountains belch loudly from the grass
of spontaneous repasts...
Gold, subtle and cream, posted
for the illumination of half days,
when the moiety of stolen glare visits
the eye of the world.
O Gold,
shine on!
You increase my pulse with that gleam,
so breath-taking, like the birth of a mirror.
Sickle of gold, pierce this gloom of distress NOW!
Fall into my palms silently like a Darling’s lone trinket.
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