Ghosts of Romance

How the kindred spirits of coffee liqueur flowed, On a night of warm and dangerous desire, Snaring motes of stars in emerald eyes, As the world around caught fire Below the ruby arc of a sinking Spanish sun, As it dips into a silver sea Of crimson tinged waves Of purest tranquillity In the sonorous lilt of breezes as they drove The sounds of bells and taste of salt up from the coast, Held so close, tight against the stirring breast, Kissing luscious flesh and ghost, Tongues infused with the subtlest gentlest tastes, Sharp alcohol and mint ice, Of sweetest honey breath, Of cinnamon and spice. In a pounding symphony of pulses as they race, Moments burn and fly in a synchrony of beating, Prayers for each instant to last forever, wasted, For each one seemed so fleeting, Beneath the amber spread of ascendant Spanish sun As it rose upon the scene, For to melt us ghosts away As if we’d never been.