If the sun does not, then the moonlight will
fall on my chest as a nightingale sings
with delight in knowing your beauty still
in this darkness - my breath is held until
you delight in what your desires bring
if the moon does not, then the daylight will
wrap you in warmth while the heavens are spilled
in your heart as all the secrets of spring
find delight in knowing your beauty still
with each heartbeat drawing closer to fill
in your spirit with what you are longing
for if the day does not, the starlight will
reach into your soul through your window sill
to grant my wish on a nightingale’s wing
yet if the stars do not, I always will  
find delight in knowing your beauty still

The flickering lamp in your hand
sways as if to swim in peace to me
the lily scenting a warm ponder
ripples from the apple of my eye
and bobs across to bid approach
blooming with a soft absorbing sigh
which enters an essence close to reach

Your touch colludes in a light lashed usher
enticed to where my heart will sing
of finding lithe spirit mute from flesh
I slide into choral waters with longing
for the wonder of a parting life wish

Drumming soft
as butterfly strokes
swishing in the night
so close
and so remote
she could vanish
into poppy fields
at any moment
but will never leave
my sight
fluttering
I swim onward..
I swim
out..

The nightingale gives way
to the ruddy dawn and foam blooms
overhead among the early watercolour
skies.

I hear a blue-*** (or robin) whistling it's tune
through the bulbs which rise bouncing
from the rippling sea of soil,
growing in seamless swathes beneath
the leaves silken pink.

The sun dapples through, reflecting
a rosy hue into the glass
dew drops fast melting
into the thirsty earth, and peeps
over the treetops before
gradually bowing his glinting head.

Old daffodils turn russet
in the golden day
and wrinkle
as the clouds blush.