August wind, glass moon,serendipity...
two chairs gazing at each other in tender flow.
Hundred miles away, clouds gather
to fondle the opening and closing
of after- midnight refrains,
both trespassing a continental divide
to awaken upon scrolls of ramblings
united by the sorcery of mystic spaces
between humid lenses.
On such lit evenings, I will surrender
to the maleness of a trembling heart ;
your cheeks swollen like yeast…a shaven head,
the blue of your shirt buried in my cellar
unbuttoning the heaving pauses
between the nearness of our skin…
Chairs grind in wanton anticipation of palms
touching my hair… you whisper,
“ I adore you beyond words.”... and I; I falter
while a glint climbs into the almond of my Oreo eyes…
The scent of hours lingers as we wrap our fingers
into morn, owning a body language in play of charades…
Your mouth hushed, searching the curves of my spine
glazed by soft bites of an August wind
brushing our lips…until the slide screen fades off,
and we are dissolved into a paradise inhabiting
unborn stars. In raw enchantment, our warmed glances
wait for a next time, as if a tarot of angels
had known about serendipity.
PD's Best Love Poem # 3
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013
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