Like the waves of a troubled ocean,
waves of love tumble over
the shore of her tempest-tossed heart.
The moonlight showers her lithe form
with dots of pure translucent light.
She sways to the gathering rhythms
of an ebbing gleam as she gets lost
in the dream of what he is to be.

So soft the flickering gems
that skirt their way
atop the polished gloss
of her enchanted sea.
He swerves in just touching
her awakening mouth of pearl
that beckons to be kissed
from its bed of opalescent swirl.

She is an ancient siren
who cries out from the eons
to a lost and wayward youth.
He answers her yearning call
delving deep into the depths,
plumbing the miles of her soul.
She is ever the enchantress
in a dress of shimmering gold.

He paints a portrait of passion
each night after the Sun has set
as her sea is bathed in his Moon embers.

Sail magnificent stars
over the tomb of Pompeii,

sing of those who
wander far and wide
beneath the death dance
of a shimmering Moon.

Hear the voices that cry
with tears of anger
over the Sun of dust and ashes.

Night has fallen on artifacts
and kneeling bodies
encased in petrified lava.

At times, prayers echo to the gods
on the winds of a volcanic eruption.
Ancient souls are destined to walk
on forever molten paths of fire.

Conceiver of blue guitar dreams,
proclaimer of starlit prophecies,

she walks in circles
to the sound of blue guitars.
Speaks with rhyme
in a thousand pieces
and creates visions
of first impressions.
Her surprises are
without limitations.

The words she embraces
reflect star-beams
into the Sestinas of her heart.
She hears the symphony
of the blue notes
and becomes the music.
Her moon directs the sky
and orchestrates her desires.

She dances to the sound
of a thousand harps.
Sings to the soul of her being
with rhapsodic melodies
and whispers refrains of amour.
At the moment of echoes,
her passions are returned
by the sultry kiss of the stars.

Late of evening
in the summer-set of years,

he of cerulean eyes
lured she of doe-spun brown
to fertile mating grounds
windswept of passion's fire.

Yet, when night overshadowed
daylight's destiny,

when two in a thousand met,
when fate had shaken their hands
leaving its palm-print on their hearts;

then as two moths capering
in bulb-lit spheres,
two lovers' wing tips brushed

and for one minuscule
fragment of time
were joined together

in an intimate coupling
of ecstacy and rhyme.

Down among
the Juniper trees,
my soul is hidden
in the misty cries
of Nature's joy,
in the diamond-facets
of its brilliancy.

~~~Stars, the diamonds
~~~The Moon, the light

My soul the dance
of a myriad of angels,
their harps the instruments
of angelic resonance,
their music the melody
of their hearts aflame
with God's Love, His faithfulness.

My soul hidden beneath
the shade of the Juniper trees.
Sweet echoes of angelic majesty
clothing my soul in threads
of gold and silver,
in the sweet rejoicing
of the Creator
of such angelic beauty,
such leafy limbs of angelic grace.

Bronzed kisses
under a bronze sky...

Were you a statue
and I the sculptor,
I could not have sculpted
your perfection, your perfect love.
But you glisten in the noonday
Sun, perfect skin roasting
to a dark tan.  I view
you with awe marveling
at the Creator Who created you
with such intricate detail,
with such a skilled wonder.
And, I am lost in the talent
of the art, consumed by

bronzed kisses
under a bronze sky.