LIFTING THE FOG
Like milk from blue mountains' swollen breasts, the fog
Intertwines with pungent campfire smoke, a blue mist
Frescoing my quiet river valley's primeval lap.
Twilight tiptoes, surreptitiously, spying on secluded tryst;
Interlaced, grape and honeysuckle canopy overhead,
Noddng blossoms dripping sweet fragrance,
Granting nectared kisses my lips cannot resist.
The blue moon peers through hazy clouds, then turns
Hiding his eyes from lovers unashamed upon the ground;
Emotion rising in his core, he looks again and sadly yearns.
Furtively, he draws foggy blankets o'er us two,
Orchestrating sequestered solitude until
Golden sunlight warms the earth uncov'ring me and you.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, July 5, 2014
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014