My answer is never

For its only lost in my chambers

 

It’s like a cornucopia

Overflowing with passionate wonder

 

A bond of realism

With a surrealist stroke

 

A graceful touch

Performed like a dove’s dance

 

Beautiful beginning

At the birth place

 

A symphony of warmth

Surrounding gold candlelight

 

Deep brown eyes

Attacked by blackness of night

 

True difference unheard

While ignited flames burned

 

Rules and borders

When I only patrol my own mind

 

Cotton softness

Slender willow scented like a rose

 

Breath above her neck

Below the listening sense

 

A life a little ordinary

Conquered by the extraordinary

 

Rain poured

Down souls of bodies

 

I whisper to her skin

   With my fingertips

 

Touched once

   And forever remembered

 

 

 

© 1998 David Greg Harth

98.01.17.00:00:00@NJNYC

98.01.21.00:00:00@NJNYC