It has been said
that when a gypsy witch sings,
the moon's silver tongue
speaks illusion in haiku,
and its beams tickle
feathers in your dream catcher.

I am no witch,
but in the darkest moments of night
where shadows dance uninhibited
with Milky Way stars,
I find serenity in your songs,
and I blow sonnets
of silver sensuality
over the contours of your beauty,
to tickle your dreams.

Aztec Warrior 7/28/15