Midnight Snack
Along the sweetness of your muse
to the window of your heart, I glided
in silent hooray; I touched and feel the skin, soft and delicate
of a sleepy, sleepy moon, in you, as you sleep
and I, lost somewhere in your own dream, ask do/how butterflies
make love in a starless night? Oh, I saw your grin, reaching
for something, perhaps my desire, that I let it flow …
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
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