And even though it doesn't want to,
The moon sees itself in the river,
The light, the shadows that it cannot touch,
The borders of your Neverland,
That grand open garland, your waist
That tickles past imaginations.

The night air, as Eve was,
Had nothing to wear.
Frantic, it covers itself
With your hair,
Perfumed, it laughs at itself,
Sharing its first fruit.
I, a human, am staring
At the very breath of God.

Forget the wind, the moon,
The river, the old, old
Stars hung as jealousy.
I have a mustard seed of love.
And I need only to believe you.

© 2011 J.S.P.