A wave of a hand
a wand
a wink
             a nod   or  blink

a winged kiss...

You wriggling your nose
spurns me to rub your lamp

I dream of you
as I often can,
           magically and wishfully
divine your eyes

What curse or bliss
to be abused by your smile
from the muse of your wiles
all the while

in our Utopian isolation
no image of what must
or emulation of their love or
such none-such

"you'll die, oh you just must"
dumb struck crush

while we paint ourselves tender
in writhing naked laughter
our own canvas
signed by us...

and only just
ourselves to Van Gogh
"Water Lillies"  and   
"Starry Nights"
       in your blush...

there I can see the future
of your worth
a masterpiece of our colorful theatre
inspiration's lovely birth

in the museums of my lungs
in my life
the art we shape with time
with touch...

what curse or bliss
this wish
come true

a wave of a hand
a wand

                        Our winged kiss.