"where night is...the swallows return or a hut near a lake"

in the castle of our love,
windswept fortress of
ashen grey, where the
four poster bed rests
on wooden floorboards
and the windows have
no glass,
roses wind around our
bed and their petals
blush against the oak,
and our dreams press
to our lips,
i can believe that
romance and passion
will sweep us, breathless,
to paradise, that this
glowing happiness was
a promise we'd never
betray, as your arms
fold me in the morning
of the dusk, my limbs
stretched out and your
slinky legs wrapped
around mine. red rose
of me in the ashes, red
rose of you sinking
into the night.