scribing with smoke and utter devotion
———————————————-
****!
half an orange, half a grapefruit,
on a crystal dish, resting on a fine china plate,
Royal Worcester, from England retrieved,
in a smoke cloud, upon my chest appears
the coverlet up to my chin pulled,
my arms tucked in tight, side by side,
the light turned off, the television too,
who? in a smoke cloud, catch a faintly glimpse
the menu does not mention love, or utter devotion,
no recollection of ordering either, and yet,
here I-am, well served, piping hot and well chilled,
scribing of one’s shadow, she who never disappears
she, whose never disappoints, late in the evening,
early in the morning, a mirage, a ghost, magical elusive,
lightest touch of a forehead kissed, a tingle for evidence,
but not the only proof of her
utter loving and devotions appearance
