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perfect storm
from the forest deep she came
like one jaguar gently prowling
drawn there by my late-day flame
typhoon in the distance howling
black hair with a coal-blue sheen
eyes like ink that shimmered golden
linen sun dress white and clean
tawdry tan with charms embolden
white-cap sea foam licked the sun
softly tasted sweet its brightness
melting ‘pon that briny tongue
sav'ring still the fading lightness
there beside those aqua oceans
palm fronds laid beneath the moon
with sublime and torrid motions
we let loose our fleshed typhoon
high above the Perseids streaming
wept those skies bright tears of fire
wishes granted - we thus dreaming
meant for fools to quite inspire
flightless angel birthed of darkness
wrapped me with her pinions warm
sacred embers - cold and sparkless
lost within that summer’s form ...
lost in her - my perfect storm.
* did you notice the change in metre? *
Copyright ©
Gregory Richard Barden
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