Magnetic Field

The sunset lingers on, anticipates with drowsing rays insatiable repose in a green and yellow sea. The burnished flare burns on under glassy blue skies, fragrance sifting spun gold hair, unhurried, languidly. Liquid violets stare telescopic at invisible stars; glint at the moistened parting of Dresden cherry lips. Born to such timeless hour, sighing grass and killing jars, honey from the waxen comb salaciously it drips. Warm air is torn asunder, split by the softest gasp, feverish the seeking for the sweetest yield. Earth and seed dies silent screaming as they tear the very roots with hands that claw and grasp at love's magnetic field. Now this deed is done, darkness falls on youth, putting pennies on the sockets where violet fades to black. Yet again may rise the sun shedding light upon the truth, in the shadows of their knowing only opposites attract.