My hand, a conveyance.
I travelled on comely veins which took me to winsome unfathomed dwelling his bag of bones is blessed with.
Dragging in his raw redolent; travelling again.
He is an endless journey.

Slow on two wheels; inhaling wondrous mise en scène.
The wind kissing his arms rushed pecking mine too; limpid bliss.
It carried soft hum of his fine voice; known yet so unknown of the fact that I feel unbelievably calm around him, with him.

He scrunches up his face;
A bravura of sheer irksomeness.
Fruitless tries of wild fathom.

His act halts his face facing mine;
dawning of endless gaze.
After a splendid array of irritability all that his partings exit is a set sound of,
Tch.

The night is still, balmy and pleasant.  The sky adorns a full moon in all its glory. Silence slowly had crept over the sleep city......
But I am awake, awake with a bunch of warm memories which smell of musk.  I try to fiddle my thoughts to spread the fragrance around me....
I smile to myself, and nod my head in disbelief.
Actually, your fragrance has wrapped itself around my soul.