I felt sexy last night;
it has been too long.
Misty, in a swirl of fog,
you overtook my dreams.
Your eyes, dark with midnight,
flashed lightning across indigo skies.
You woke me, fragmental.
I found your lips
on the tops of mountains
your hands in the valley,
tongue laughing on the river bank,
and with palms held open, gentle,
I offered to gather you
as the leaves of the lily
collect the rain.
Poetry
always liked this one.
ReplyDeletepoetry in motion. when we write poems like this, we know it's in motion, we write it with our motions. At least that applies to me.
I'm hunting poems. Shhhhh! Be vewy quite.