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 yearningly
I divine your eyes…

What curse or bliss
(Too much of this)
to be abused by your smile
from the muse of your wiles,
all the while
Truly
in our Utopian isolation
no other image of what must
or emulation of their love or
such none-such nonplussed

"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…