Wake to the warm.

Wake to memories
of desire.

Sleepy otters stretch.

Birds awake singing questions.

She sighs and sips,
the day before her.

He wonders at her wonder;
so the otters, so the birds.

What are those
memories of desire?

And who is this
bright promise
that sighs and sips,

waking to the warm.

One day, he will know.
  ~mce

I understand that I'm not the first book you would pick up, that is if you were looking at the cover.
For there are so many books with alluring colors, and I am one dim color with a tattered binding.
But understand one thing; just because what your eyes see first isn't what your mind will interpret later on.
Yeah, an eye-catching outside layer is nice to look at, but what about the inside?
I promise you that even though I may not catch your eye, I have an unique story that has descriptive details that will over take you and your senses.
I will leave you breathless.
When you are finished with me and set me down, you will not be done with me.
You will refer to me about many things and one day my storyline may cross your mind.

I tasted you on my lips
hint of last night's honey,
   your essence lingered
a musky scent still
    enveloped my senses,
sun and stars had risen
  simultaneously
beckoning through pale
   filtered moonlight,
sharing what lovers do
we were as gypsy souls
    gaily dancing naked,
to the tempestuous
  music of lustful hearts
leaving sensibilities
    for the light of day,
when mingled ambiance
dwelled in contemplation
and the possibilities
        were infinitely composed