Away from the white Stork feathers
Often seemed to be gentle breeze
On Kans grasses
Superficial white clouds
Small dinghies on the river
To navigate the life

Far away on the bridge
The Silent movement of the Brahminy kite
Southern breeze blew
Tilting the tall grasses toward the North
Leak of the light fell into the Kans,
Into the Soft green grasses

Sunlit mingled with light fog
Seek heavenly feeling
Without the knowledge
The lips Stir of

Walking beside the river
Barefooted
In the air Kestrel's mystic music
The river running with full of chime

What are the forms of you!
Thee bind me with deception!
What a Strange tune!
What those thirsty words!

So that I draw your image
Moving away from the shadows
Soft light blended with the estuary
Away,
Little by little,
To see your face
Like the rig of Ship

Behind the path
A magical dream
Seems like a White Shirt  
That I had left in the Kans grasses

Star spangled banners and kids without manners.
From both sides of the saline pond.
Universal bond of childhood.
Sometimes naughty others good.

Facing into the roses,
They're scratching their noses.
Salt waters screaming from beaches, that nobody reaches.
Encouraging dipping when the kids should be kipping.
It's seven a.m, it's really too early.
The water's so chilled and their toes rather curly.

Running for cover avoiding past lovers.
Children are crying, the water's real cold now.
Mother insisted, the silly old cow.

Walk past the church on the left.
The old fashioned one with the bent twisted steeple.
Inside hides a guy, he's claiming church sanctuary.

In the churchyard a black cat, carrying bad luck in a black velvet sack.
Should have been green to fit into the scene.
Betwixt the headstones, upon the grass.
Hid in the corner the witch stirs her cauldron.

She missed undelivered promises, lost in the mail.
The male was late, a bit like a snail.
Once was a husband, abandoned his kid.

And the English kids, so loud and uncouth.
Told the hag by the cauldron,
To give them some money.
Not a penny to her name.
Disappeared to the back streets.
To go play the game.
With a couple of punters.
To provide for her kids.
Financial hunters.
Was always the same.
For her name was mummy.
(C) LIVVI

A hero's going to
Save me just in time
SAVE ME NOW
I need a hero
Who's going
To fight
For what's right
Who's going
To fight
For the weak
I need a hero
SAVE ME NOW
Save me just in time
Who's going
To make
Us believe
That life
Is
WORTH IT
I need a hero
To save me now
Just in time
Who's gonna
Save my life

An artistically woven
turquoise woolen
pullover made
out of the finest
moher fabric
made my day.

Made for you,
to be caressed
and cherished
as a perfect
garment.

It looked so good
on you, my darling!

Rainbow colors always
bring me happiness and
I gently touch you,
feeling already safe
as a deer in a flowering
forest; within narcotically
scented alluring hug, we
embrace again, tightly,
you and me, entwined.

Whiffed winds melody
played through tall pine
tree tops as a flute song
swaying branches. It seemed
as they are affirming our walk
along the shore, where the river
meets an ocean, hand in hand,
peacefully.

And, yet, every time the
strong cool breeze exposes
your magnificent masculine
figure in that woolen top,
my coolness faints into the
void and dissolves itself.

Our urge emerges!
I feel your fingertips touch
as a passionate flame dance
over my face, you turn my
head up toward your loving
gaze, wanting it so much,
slightly pulling me up
then burning my lips.

Our hurried steps are heard,
echoing as a rushed tempo
on the salty path, fresh air
lingers around us, leading
us to our charming summer
suite, to undress. And love.