Love At Your Feet
An ebony tress flies over the meadow.
Disquietude of the heart; you look over the
Marching troops, the veneration,
The last gleam of the marquis,
Heading toward coiling smoke.
My wall crumbles, barreled down by war and a
Hunger that wind can’t qualm, a thirst for
Satin gentleness and pearl-like skin,
Amorousness swirls,
Blending with incense perfuming,
The fervidness of hearts
Drumming, beat after beat, after beat,
Perpetual promises beyond the meadow.
Cannons pounding, reverberating reverence for our time.
My heart deepens, cracking at the slender silhouette
That the wind can’t shake away, the vehemence of the beating heart
Toward the meadow where the effervescence of your scent
Keeps me at your feet.
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