Sleepwalker

And in the darkest sweeping wings is held all probable

The night of dreamings; wished embraces of gossamer senses ponder miracles

And leave their mark; ever in hope....

She is waiting

Pale in naked moon lit sexual stretches

Fanning shadows curve on satins anguished blue

To subtle bronzed drips rusted rivers

Lay about her in ever flowing delta’s of hair

These the coy covers of shoulders demure beneath their lifting expectation

Quintessence supplicant to floating hands; risen

Her slow beat thumps on a sudden heart

The fleur-de-lis arched beseeching the avid prayer of lips

The floorboards creek

And though through empty rooms the sighs may roam

Though forever it seems she has lain alone

There are eyes, by bat wing devised; by the caverns urgent aphrodisia

He has been gathered by the corpuscle of desire, to come to her

And by each and every silent unspent moan of longing

He inscribed this hours, fretful, reflections of her mantle parted

An eternal caress folded; ingress to her concupiscent heart

Mere Luna beams of dreams of loves physique, his love, made love to her

Dawns dissipation breaths

Remembering the warmth before forgotten days; where separated so

Bathes her awash in amber fire; and traces his finger along her spine

To leave her sleeping in those somnambulist foot prints

Looses in the languid illusive of arms, wrapped in suns breaking

Turning to the light he asks for its edifice, hold fast on waking

Struggle to define by wanting the irrevocable kiss; pressed to her

A taste recited by those gossamer senses ponder miracles

And leave their mark; forever in hope