the sun streams down broken by the leaves
and my head sketches romance novels out of the patches of blue sky
that she illustrates with her pleasures,
she weaves a life out of the pure love that she feels
sometimes its pattern of shadows dance with a passing breeze,
sometimes its the harbor lights as a ship slips away out to sea.
she rests her cheek against her arm,
letting her soft brown hair spill loose
cascading down in a strawberry scented river
lined with lilacs and lilies,
swaying in time to the beat of her heart
she looks to me;
she looks right through me.
Sometimes it's in the cardinal's call echoing through still woods;
sometimes it's in starlight that glitters across rain-wet city streets.
She blinks her eyes,
her mouth moving into a smile;
she speaks, letting every lovely syllable trickle from between kissable lips,
soft, caressing words,
finding their way to the clouds.
she rises moving into the evening...
letting each supple line of her form be the subject for novellas of desire,
letting her every motion and gesture in my presence
be her love letters to me...
her tender thoughts of our love affair
and of our moments of sharing our very souls
have become her joy which shines from within,
sometimes like cool moonlight on a summer eve in each others passionate arms
sometimes like the laughing abandon in loves playful embrace.