A dull, cream hued bedroom with stacks of books everywhere;
Arranged in bookshelves, piled on table, tucked into bed & laid on floor.
The dampness of the nearby marsh, rides on the wind;
And through the open barred window, flows in;
The subtle smell of the sun dried clothes which was still lingering;
Was disturbed by the wind, that uninvited came in.
The room never had the sun pay a visit to her;
The only forms of sun she ever receives are sun dried objects & sun kissed lovers.
Lovers who lie bare on their undone bed;
And saturate the room with abstractions spilling out of their heads.
Pure souls, imperfect bodies with minds, oh so sultry;
They make love with words, ****** with rhyme & conceive poetry.
The walls blush a little when the young man kisses his young woman everywhere but her lips;
Gliding his lips all over her skin, kissing every freckle & slowing down on nips.
For exquisite utterances dripped from her universe & down her lips they trickle;
Getting absorbed into her boundless skin, creating another constellation of freckles.
An occasional wind peeps in, while her lover's tongue & lips get painted with her essence;
She notices this intruder & breathes it all in, while stopping abruptly mid-sentence.
He begins savoring her lips & devouring the words she haven't spoken yet;
They gulp down each other as into each other they melt.
The words which missed to escape, wait patiently for the arrival of the coming night;
But soon they get frantic, alter & behave differently in the daylight.
The room wakes from her slumber;
With the aroma of tea & scent of wilted flowers.
Everything returns to being dispassionate as the lovers part during the day;
But as the night befalls, they return to make love & fill the void in many a sensuous way.
Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 12:02 PM UTC
A dull, cream hued bedroom with stacks of books everywhere;
Arranged in bookshelves, piled on table, tucked into bed & laid on floor.
The dampness of the nearby marsh, rides on the wind;
And through the open barred window, flows in;
The subtle smell of the sun dried clothes which was still lingering;
Was disturbed by the wind, that uninvited came in.
The room never had the sun pay a visit to her;
The only forms of sun she ever receives are sun dried objects & sun kissed lovers.
Lovers who lie bare on their undone bed;
And saturate the room with abstractions spilling out of their heads.
Pure souls, imperfect bodies with minds, oh so sultry;
They make love with words, ****** with rhyme & conceive poetry.
The walls blush a little when the young man kisses his young woman everywhere but her lips;
Gliding his lips all over her skin, kissing every freckle & slowing down on nips.
For exquisite utterances dripped from her universe & down her lips they trickle;
Getting absorbed into her boundless skin, creating another constellation of freckles.
An occasional wind peeps in, while her lover's tongue & lips get painted with her essence;
She notices this intruder & breathes it all in, while stopping abruptly mid-sentence.
He begins savoring her lips & devouring the words she haven't spoken yet;
They gulp down each other as into each other they melt.
The words which missed to escape, wait patiently for the arrival of the coming night;
But soon they get frantic, alter & behave differently in the daylight.
The room wakes from her slumber;
With the aroma of tea & scent of wilted flowers.
Everything returns to being dispassionate as the lovers part during the day;
But as the night befalls, they return to make love & fill the void in many a sensuous way.
just a dream I had
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