To propose
a repose,
with the one I am close;
nose tipped
on nose,
and not a trace
of our clothes.

On seas better left to curl like mountains,
maintains that only hell hails here;
hearing a call however, the ***** your ship steers by,
binds that you must flow where your heart knows
no guarantee of binding affection is assured;
shorelines from where home once felt like it sat on the map.

Good luck noble voyager.
God speed.

If you would
sit down at my table,
to be savouring
the feast of our little fable,
sharing the dishes
of dreams and of thoughts
seasoned with promises,
of both mine and of yours.

And, when you wake up
you shall only see
an imprint in the pillow and covers.
long gone i will be,
from this mess, and the loose
webs that reveal your other lovers.

Mourning and its endless blue,
ends in a journey that
makes us value and love again;
mornings in endless blue.

Beware the Anna Conda
of Boa Vista;
So easy to coil up
in those snakes for arms,
so deadly to be bitten
by those snakes for charms.

All the leaves are leaving,
they fall when in fall,
seasoning our season
before the winter's call.

Grounds littered with orange,
ready for the red
mellowed with yellow,
before a white winter is fed.