I catch the scent of you
on my fingertips...
and gently smile.

Love like a ******,
its always the very first time.
Throw your soul into it
like you don't know...
like flowers in the snow.

Women don't have straight lines.
Their ways are oblique...
they dance the paths that weave.

Before the cold wind blows...
I want to walk with you
beneath an autumn moon,
and sit together
among the falling leaves.
I want to stand with you
in the setting sunlight,
and love you...
in the cool damp grass.

I remember days;
colored by certain
delightful chemicals,
Curled up
in a light filled bay window
curtained with lace,
hanging plants and crystals.
Lying on cushions piled high...
with steaming peppermint tea,
watching through wisps of incense
large, slow snowflakes fall.
Examining an old book,
its texture, gravity, flexibility
and smell
seemed as much a living thing
to me
as the black cat slithering up
onto my lap,
or her human
nibbling gently on my neck.

Enlightenment comes quietly
like a lovers gentle kiss
in twilights fading light.

She has a body
I could worship,
an *** I'd sacrifice to.