by J. P. Davies

I believe in you so much,
when the raven locks of hair
fall fleeting past your eyes.

When the slinking winds, pulsing against
my lone window, remind me of the space
between dire moments when you drag
your lush lips slowly along my neck.

It's enough to create fresh memory,
that can sear carefully into my eyes.
Like coloured pulsing dots of flame,
that remain flickering,
after staring intently,
at the first sunrise of summer.

I could sit wavering here, and watch
the blue-grey clouds roll graciously back,
revealing a glowing reflection that
transcribes reveries to my senses,
the bottomless swirling wells
of your stardust eyes at night.

And, so doing, drown gladly at the
thought of the ebullient songs your
close enveloped embrace could inspire.
Knowing that, for now, description is
only fraudulent and unjust verses.
A pale reflection, of the veritable ecstasy,
of a second spent with you.


Posted on 03/12/2004
Copyright © 2022 J. P. Davies

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