Nostalgia halos itself around me as I become the virgin again
Dreaming of fruitful vineyards ripe with tenderness
Returning to the place of my birth
Honey descends upon the morning grass

I am awed by its silence and virtue
As he takes my hand and guides me barefooted
To the kissing tree
Through the secret gardens of my youth

I am overcome by the smell of innocence, of childhood
Tasting this embodiment, his scent enters through my nostrils
And causes chills to rush through my veins
As I become intoxicated with more than just love

Sandalwood and citris lace themselves in my hair
While we watch our shadows dance on the sunlit path
Sage drips on my skin while the day draws nigh unto us
And Life reveals its beauty in the slightest touch of lips. . .

01/17/2002

Posted on 01/17/2002
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