"endearments" poems
The shoreline bites at the toes of attendees,
watching the little appendages curl up together.
The footprints there have been etched into fossils,
the sand crunching together and sounding like
echoes of war cries and whispered endearments.
The raft is loaded. The time is traced.
A caterpillar in a chrysalis hums a love song,
glows with the light of ‘vita vita vita’ as
the gathering crowds taste dead languages.
Children eat from lunch boxes carved with runes.
Sometimes a glipse of twenty years is caught,
a journal is forced open by the wind; it’s pages
creak, the voices from the world's coffins
that have been wrenched open start a hymn
and the songs pile up in our ears as dust.
Those who are do not mourn titter respectfully
as men in white coats try to push the raft
into the water, but you were so lovably stubborn.
You always returned and even here you knew it;
your final laugh was filtered through sign language.
I step forward and push, float you off into
the water, put my fingers over the candle and
over the lips of dead kings as masses shoot the sky.
The match roars and your raft gasps as it burns,
old things being laid to rest and new ones kindling.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 6:28 PM UTC
The roses of Love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtur’d ’mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them for ever, in Love’s last adieu!
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,
Or Death disunite us, in Love’s last adieu!
Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast,
Will whisper, “Our meeting we yet may renew:”
With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow’s represt,
Nor taste we the poison, of Love’s last adieu!
Oh! mark you yon pair, in the sunshine of youth,
Love twin’d round their childhood his flow’rs as they grew;
They flourish awhile, in the season of truth,
Till chill’d by the winter of Love’s last adieu!
Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way,
Down a cheek which outrivals thy ***** in hue?
Yet why do I ask?—to distraction a prey,
Thy reason has perish’d, with Love’s last adieu!
Oh! who is yon Misanthrope, shunning mankind?
From cities to caves of the forest he flew:
There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;
The mountains reverberate Love’s last adieu!
Now Hate rules a heart which in Love’s easy chains,
Once Passion’s tumultuous blandishments knew;
Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins,
He ponders, in frenzy, on Love’s last adieu!
How he envies the wretch, with a soul wrapt in steel!
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,
And dreads not the anguish of Love’s last adieu!
Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o’ercast;
No more, with Love’s former devotion, we sue:
He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast;
The shroud of affection is Love’s last adieu!
In this life of probation, for rapture divine,
Astrea declares that some penance is due;
From him, who has worshipp’d at Love’s gentle shrine,
The atonement is ample, in Love’s last adieu!
Who kneels to the God, on his altar of light
Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew:
His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight,
His cypress, the garland of Love’s last adieu!
3.7k
I quite like the virginity of a fresh notebook
the way my wrists and palms drag across its leaves
breathing life between lines in pink magic marker or the severity of red ballpoint
I like the prickly practical meticulousness of a shopping list:
a dozen eggs
one pineapple
one bag of fresh spinach
one bag of English muffins
one bottle of dish soap
I like the tender impressions of curlie cues and firty cursive
communicating endearments placed on counters such as:
TAKE OUT THE RECYCLING YOU LAZY OAF ******* <3 XOXOXO <3
I enjoy the audacity of a wandering doodle
meandering
cartwheeling
hopskotching
between
and under and over
indices
and spaces
between shopping lists and death threats
i enjoy the lingering ghost of prose shaped caverns
carved onto seemingly empty sheets that carry on for pages
until they fade like whispers into an evanescence
I crave the obnoxiousness absurdity of a to do list
daring me to take a day off from procrastination
until tomorrow
call Gramma
rent due on the first of the muuuuuuuunth
take the GRE
update resume
be awesome. like a boss.
most of all
I love the pain and joy of a poem
the way it slowly leaks from heart to mind to hand to paper
staining
spaces
urgently
faster than muses whispers
barely escaping onto lines
prolific terrific poetry
sporadic spacious atrocious poetry
I croon over the denial of the last page of a beat up notebook
the way the paper hangs onto spirals haggard
littered with stringy remnants of lists and reminders and death threats and poems and goodbyes
Dec 5, 2012
Dec 5, 2012 at 12:43 PM UTC
Write me ******
Converse with in my notebook
Write me in verses
Use lust a word to trace my lips,
kisses in forms of sonnets,
Touch my hair in feather inked pens,
pencil my buttocks with curvy nouns
Endearments in & out like syllables,
while spelling out sensual adjectives
poetically ****** me,
calling out my name
as you rhyme again in and out out and in
****** deeply within me your hard penetrating
Philosophy.
Wrap your hand in mines as you
once more trace your tongue down my notepad
become master *********** within pages of my dairy.
Converse with in my notebook
as we fill up my pages.
Please Please Please
Write me in verses
Write me ******
Write me harder& harder
Faster Please
Write good long as you Write me
Sweet Poets!
Always Me Ayeshah
Mar 13, 2010
Mar 13, 2010 at 7:55 PM UTC
Here comes the shadow not looking where it is going,
And the whole night will fall; it is time.
Here comes the little wind which the hour
Drags with it everywhere like an empty wagon through leaves.
Here comes my ignorance shuffling after them
Asking them what they are doing.
Standing still, I can hear my footsteps
Come up behind me and go on
Ahead of me and come up behind me and
With different keys clinking in the pockets,
And still I do not move. Here comes
The white-haired thistle seed stumbling past through the branches
Like a paper lantern carried by a blind man.
I believe it is the lost wisdom of my grandfather
Whose ways were his own and who died before I could ask.
Forerunner, I would like to say, silent pilot,
Little dry death, future,
Your indirections are as strange to me
As my own. I know so little that anything
You might tell me would be a revelation.
Sir, I would like to say,
It is hard to think of the good woman
Presenting you with children, like cakes,
Standing in doorways, flinging after you
Little endearments, like rocks, or her silence
Like a whole Sunday of bells. Instead, tell me:
Which of my many incomprehensions
Did you bequeath me, and where did they take you? Standing
In the shoes of indecision, I hear them
Come up behind me and go on ahead of me
Wearing boots, on crutches, barefoot, they could never
Get together on any door-sill or destination-
The one with the assortment of smiles, the one
Jailed in himself like a forest, the one who comes
Back at evening drunk with despair and turns
Into the wrong night as though he owned it-oh small
Deaf disappearance in the dusk, in which of their shoes
Will I find myself tomorrow?
2.3k
The air is brisk, all the leaves the color of flames,
as they send off sparks to incite the heat of desire.
Watching as they sway like lovers dancing in the wind.
The sun reflects off the pond as if sprinkled with glitter.
Ducks swim amongst the flickering lights as if they
were a ballet that never tires,
A path leads to a magical gazebo that has withstood
the hands of time. Etched into its body are the words
of lovers written in rhyme. What wonderful secrets
this old wood must have heard told. All the kisses
and whispered endearments of lovers so bold.
Stolen kisses, forbidden embraces, anger, frustration,
laughter and tears. this place had to have seen it all,
in it’s many years. Touch the wood and feel all the warmth
of love and desires it holds. Each grain protecting a memory
of one of many in its fold.
So come with me my friends, walk along its trodden paths.
Stroll with me into the Realm of love and fantasies.
Listen to the winds of change, dancing through the leaves.
If you listen close you just might be able to hear, a lover’s
soft laugh or maybe the falling of a tear.
Kathleen Kohl/Levinski
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
**Buzzard, eagle, falcon, hawk,
Tiger, cheetah, lion, leopard,
panther, cougar, wild cat
intense all these predators are,
in carnal love and the war for dominance.
Each has characteristic hunting ways,
in day time prowling, plain beasts, they remain,
at sunset , each springs up, party time starts.
Birds of prey in silence watch from above
and find the right target, at a time that suits.
No endearments, in love or in games,
only body speaks of desires or warnings
Swift expression of demand, quick strike,
overpower and make the other surrender.
Throaty growls hurting silence of the forest
double as their sparse love language.
Hunters can never be lovers, their actions speak,
they demand, commandeer, force to surrender.**
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 9:13 AM UTC
Words…..because words are all I have……..:) Edgar
endearments generosity incantatory new sagacity surprise heresy dissipation violating abyss language warning culminates dalack obdurate serving waiter ossuary occurrences tortured beware silence calm bow physiognomy paucity occurrence exegeses transmogrification effectuation Adjunctive dairy tenure contention tenner reins happy indomitable, connoisseur artifice concatenation vivacity voluptuous solemnity enigmatic burdened glorious line huge……………………some I made myself…..:) Edgar
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 4:07 PM UTC
Friends fake endearments written in yearbooks
Or until the reunion when age can’t pretend
Many attend only to feel better about themselves
One night to reminisce, pity accompanying regret.
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 12:22 AM UTC
in the dark of the classroom you can't see your scars
and neither can anyone else
which is the important bit
the teacher droning on and pointing to the big screen that dominates your life
you hope that it gets better
idly scrawling notes and drawing images of what you imagine to be
a less painful existence
it's not that you're depressed
more disillusioned
because the teacher doesn't stop
and the assignments don't stop
mountains of work that you don't plan on completing
and students whispering either insults, or-
you don't know what
you don't know them
you don't want to know them
they're all empty eyes and spitballs and legs that trip you in the hallways and fists that have made their mark on your mouth and eyes
bruises that take weeks to disappear
and that teachers ignore
they ignore
your sleepless eyes
your swollen lips
your bloodied cheekbones
the boys that trip you in the halls
that call you a freak
a ***
that pin you against old metal lockers
and choke you
whisper in your ear and force you down on your knees
you don't know their names
they don't know your names
they know you only by the terms that you've come to know as endearments
(you hate them
you hate them but you can't make it stop)
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
I’ve strode this road of war and love
And born it’s bile and spleen,
I’ve wept at death and laughed at birth
But nowhere have I seen,
A sweeter place to live and die,
To quest for things supreme,
Than to forge these days of hard forays
In the Land of In Between.
Candied apples hang from boughs
Like jewels bequeathed by Queen
And silver sounds of bubbling brook
Cascade to tumbling stream,
Parakeets in vivid hue
Fly by with shreeking scream
In forest’s green majestic light
In the Land of In Between.
Paint no man black or vivid white
Whilst points of view be gleaned
With race and politics ignored
Then manifest, obscene.
Where labour be a man’s reward
And filthy lucre screened
As noxious be a spider bite
In this Land of In Between.
Where hate be strangled to the end
Then with a keen blade ,sheened,
Be put to death with avarice
No guilt or guile redeemed.
Leaving in the pristine wake
A countryside so clean
That God be queuing up to live
In this Land of In Between.
All ****** love be sacrosanct
And soft endearments seemed
As normal as the light of night
When by the moon dust preened.
And that laughter be our currency
Affection always seen
As bonding in fraternity
At the Land of In Between.
M.
Foxglove, Taranaki NZ.
30 January 2016
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC
Stranger than me, or too much alike
some wrangle upon toilet papers
plastic cups out of place or lost time;
peering past, another wanders on.
Tinkling wires and rainbow faces
hearing, seeing, perchance aurific speaking
the namer among ten-thousand petty things
or squinting upon the verge of time, espy a sequal.
Step by step to round the universe
or being fell-swept away in cubboards
seem or act unseemly, like or dislike
played to the order in the round, circling about.
Why so familiar these drabbed tones of ant trumpets
or wineskins grown old to leak and sputter?
Tis the wish and will, holding like ****** to the ropes
great gales n frothing nothingnes storming on.
But We, blown upon the Aether of the Soul
a great conquest of rousing dignities;
here, under nooks, behind secret doors
or bounding past, lightning speed, relay some wonder.
Shock of waking, or dulcet tones in the Alarm of life
our shadows twist, there on the lintel of private hours
our care, held through the Night kinder endearments
then danced over reeling waves for sweet inspection.
Here unalone a look, a voice and laughter ring the ears
a crying out, or trebled inward sigh, too close to trembling-
Who is this Sojourn Friend?
Perhaps our best of self combined
no more allied to faithless days nor dark an empty smiles-
strange wastes some carelessness invents to wrack the hours.
But We, no stranger to the Sojourner's faith, Are One.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 12:37 PM UTC
1. I stopped wearing mascara and eye-liner already.
2. There’s a ball within my gut that is benumbing my insides.
3. I look at my hands and they are trembling.
4. This is bad.
5. I’ve always known how fatal impulsion and indecision are but I never listen to myself.
6. I have my walls up but the dragon is inside, slaying every beauty I fabricated with his gigantic strength.
7. I bring handkerchiefs everywhere I go now.
8. This is bad.
9. I had been given three cards to bring into play in order for me to save myself.
10. I’ve used them all already.
11. This is bad.
12. I’m still trembling.
13. The dragon wouldn’t have been here to slaughter me and my kingdom if I hadn’t invited him in.
14. I hear his words over and over again. They sing melodies of his beautiful promises and endearments. Did I make them up inside my head? Why won’t they stop?
15. A tear left a **** across my cheek. I didn’t wear mascara.
16. It’s dark. Did the light burn out?
17. This is bad.
18. There has been an explosion from my innards. I’m all over the place. My pieces are everywhere.
19. I thought he was a prince. How could the dragon’s disguise look so real? I fixed my gaze at him (or it?) and he (or it) looked so gentle. Why is he (or it) burning my garden with his fire breath that is this cold?
20. I used to not bring handkerchiefs. I always lose them. But I have to now.
21. It’s so dark. I can’t see. Where is the light?
22. I’m lost.
23. This is bad.
24. I don’t need handkerchiefs. The tears are overflowing and they’re making an ocean around me.
25. This ocean is drowning me and I’m slowly reaching the depths of it. Will I ever re-surface?
26. I’m drowning. There’s no more air in my lungs.
27. I see the dragon. It’s hovering over me. Does he also want to wreck this ocean? Like my kingdom was just his warm up?
28. This darkness seems better than the light.
29. I can only be saved thrice. I’ve been saved thrice already.
30. Is this my end?
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
I think that one of the biggest reason why relationships do not work out in the long run is because at one point, one side (or both) stops trying. Before one claims another person as their significant other, they would do anything to make that person happy. They would chase, they would flirt, they would be charming. They would send daily morning and goodnight texts every time you wake up or go to sleep. They would write corny messages and pick up lines just to make sure that there is a smile upon your face. But once they claim you as theirs, all of those things eventually stop. The 5 page texts slowly turn into 1. The constant calls turn into not calling at all. And the lovely endearments turn into daily arguments. In order for a relationship to work, don’t ever stop chasing. Just because the person you want is now consider “yours”, it does not mean they deserve anything less than the time when you’re trying to win them over.
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
I’m in a vicious state of mind,
no siren calls to stem the putrid inferno
burning my mind to charcoal,
petrifying it to unblemished obsidian.
Words of love don’t reach me,
silly human endearments bore me,
touch me and I’ll slice your hands off.
It’s not good, they tell me.
But I will build my armory.
Until this warped, traitorous world
can be wrenched, twisted, hammered
back into hinges,
that I have complete control of.
Silence...
Finally
Testament of a panzer maiden
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
love's orchestra
plays
in enduring hearts
the baton
of time
harmonizes
the two
in
a
symphony
of
accord
souls
remaining
steadfast
as
the
endearments
of
love
ever
last
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
You sent my quiescent heart into a beating frenzy
A then lifeless ***** pumped itself back to life
It continues to beat at this very hour - relentless, restless
However every drop of sincere love is now replaced
It bangs against my constricting ribs, fueled by paroxysmal fury
I still find it difficult to breathe
No other melody equated your mellifluous voice
Every syllable that waltzed its way out of your lips enamored my soul
Now it turned to vexing noise that perturbs the tunnels of my ears
You are a song that does not belong in my playlist
Reverberating whispers haunt the hallways of my being
The hallways that you abandoned
Your name is etched on every wall of my mind
Its letters cavorted on the vacant space, owned the space
Each wall began to disintegrate now as your sobriquets induce cracks
Saccharine endearments quake the foundations of my sanity
But my castle of thoughts will not collapse
Commencing exhaustive repairs to extract you out of my life
Picturesque moments framed in my museum of memories
Images of your smile, of your enchanting eyes - all on display
How I wish you can watch me bathe the museum in gasoline now
The lofty flames will bring the light back in my insipid eyes
You were so quick to leave, shaming athletes on a race
Incinerating all to ash, witness how the wrathful flames emulate your pace
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
I’ve saved our letters,
They’re in a box in my closet.
Nothing screams pain more than old words.
Words that meant the world in that moment,
But over time,
Entered into a downward spiral.
I loved how you curled your Y’s,
And oh-so confidently striked through your A’s.
_That .38 pen fit you too well._
The floral stamps reminded me of a crowded garden,
One filled with bees, butterflies, and even grasshoppers.
_You got those at the Art Museum, I just know it._
An asymmetrical heart sealed the letter,
Instantly ripped in half by my eagerness to read your words.
_Did you kiss the heart where the envelope seals, just like I do?_
Before flooding myself with your paragraphs,
I delicately brought the parchment to my nose.
_Ambrosial, particles of your aroma trapped into the air of the envelope, spread on the parchment._
I am grateful for our endearments that are captured on paper.
No time for reliving, only reminicinsing.
Thank you. So so much.
You will never know how important it was to me.
Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 6:43 PM UTC
Born as Montague and you as Capulet.
Killed our love with doubts in the silhouette;
If only we dared not to rely our fate in roulette.
How I wish we fought for it like Romeo and Juliet.
Even though it lasted like matches that burned out so soon
And sadly, forever we are the sun and the moon.
Your sweet smile, your bubbly endearments and your voice of calming tune
Moments, will not dare to forget, that made my day light as balloon
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
love doesn't dash, it loiters
with repeated movements like music
and beautifully crude endearments
love doesn't dash, it lingers
with rhythms like dance
and boastfully rude aphorisms
so dally with me, my love
lollygag, lounge and in a while
we'll share breaths and mess about
Apr 19, 2023
Apr 19, 2023 at 9:31 PM UTC
The day was long and greedily waited,
in near unspoken secret - like a thing
delightfully and enchantingly wicked.
We are reunited - simpatico - my love, lover and I.
We ravish each other and lavish each other
with flattery, endearments and entire pleasure.
We live sweet centuries in those tight hours.
Happiness changes the tenor of things.
Rains of feeling combine in torrents,
like the tinkling notes of a harp make symphony.
Our minutest nerves are instruments of joy.
Mornings start with exquisite excitement and
the dense reel and stagger of intoxication -
because we’re drunk with the fullness of life.
Leaves on trees called chestnut, linden and hazel, stir
gently in the breeze - those faint shoos and rustles, times
nature’s fractal design - blare, in effect, like terrific trumpets.
At night, as we walk together under cooling summer skies,
the stars in the far-flung firmaments, seem to huddle together
and whisper, like sisters, of life and the mysteries of earthy love.
We are the dust of those constellations - are we but spies?
.
.
Songs for this:
Thank You My Angel by Over the Rhine
Perfect Day by Povo
Goodbye Sunday by Everything But the Girl
Aug 31, 2025
Aug 31, 2025 at 12:52 PM UTC
Distinguished by endearments,
a young man is on the rise.
Exploring the lands' curves,
he peers out behind blue eyes.
Venturing along his path,
his inner light shines intensely.
Observation has revealed,
he will give to others immensely.
Noticed by many, for there are,
so few that remain.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
She would sit with me,
holding my hand-
at scary moments;
when i stand on the brink.
Walked beside me with firm foot steps,
when i trudged slushy paths,
and treacherous mine fields.
Her watchful eyes followed
when i climbed steep heights,
told me all that to be said,
the way she only could,
She brought me in one piece,
out of nightmares,
her gibberish endearments
gave me goosebumps,
none did ever see her cathartic dance
with me at times, i needed her most.
Secret lover she was, i thought
of my haunted soul,
how would i know
about the curse
that made her so, for ever!
Burned out and down
her i addressed each morning,
as if she can absolve me from all my sins.
She would remove hemlock, from my blood,
this life has made me drink,
to corrupt, and eliminate;
inch by inch,
sink my beleaguered ship.
She made me forget a love gone sour,
she'd take my hand in hers and kiss it till i snore.
**She soothed my mind finely, more than any shrink,
her peppermint lips tasted, witchcraft and spice.
She was the only one who knew my secret,
at the dead of night, in clouds
when moon stealthily hide,
I change and become a werewolf.**
A mad dog of a wish, selfishly
made me take that false step,
uncontrollable by my wish, i spoke forbidden words.
The spell was broken once and for all,
all i could remember was her heartrending sobs,
I stand here,
at my lonely window, overlooking-
this city of forgetfulness and pain,
in wicked words challenging me
to meet her again.
O
Jun 5, 2012
Jun 5, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
I knew how I've felt
and its not your fault...
You did love me best,
but I thought all wrong.
I didn't have faith enough to believe-
you'd really do
all you've promised me.
I didn't know the magnitude
of your feeling for me,
nor could Imagine
someone like you
can really want to be with me.
Forever you'd say & I never understood,
couldn't fathom it,
not after all the bitterness in my life.
Someone like you
whose always looking at the positives,
where
I've only focused on the negatives.
I didn't know
that you'd show me
all the possibilities
there was to being loved
so completely!
My hurt consumed me,
I never saw you,
not in the way you've
needed me to.
Too consumed in
my own bitter resentments
to reflect on the agony
being inflected upon you
so much so,
that I've dissipated whatever it were
we could of be and had!
All I could do was
hoard the love you've given,
selfishly cling to it and store it away.
Never did I allow myself
to return the favors of your endearments,
I wasn't able to,
my blindness and hurtful neglect
wouldn't allow me to cave in.
You knew,
I came broken,
confused,
lonely & so used
knew too,
I'd been dealt poorly & left beaten,
bruised
inside,
well as out,
I couldn't risk another let down or set back.
My mind,
nor my heart
wouldn't be persuaded,
I allowed my body to feed off your energy,
allowed you to manifest
within my flowery walls
a safe heaven of ****** bliss.
While I was retaining
the very best parts
of
ME
- away .....
Away from your longing soul
and your
beautiful wondrous heart.
I didn't know
how to let go of my past,
I didn't understand
the beauty of all that you possessed,
someone like you
wanted me for
everything that I am,
good, bad & the very worst
parts of me.
You didn't worry,
long as you had me
all the fibers of my being--
"He"
ie (YOU)
only wished to see me happy,
in love and by your side.
I can't blame you
for letting go,
I can't forget
all the good times and memories
we've shared.
It may just be too late,
yet I'd like to think one day,
maybe next lifetime
perhaps.....
For now
I'll say,
how very
sorry I am
because even
as the words left your lips,
I failed to agree or really understand.
Truth be told
it couldn't be help.
So I hope you'll forgive me,
for I truly,
wholeheartedly,
honestly,
mournfully
- apologetically
Didn't Know!
Always Me Ayeshah ™ ®
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Copyright 1977 - Present
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
With lips intoning
A litany of endearments
In a language I fully understood
One kiss, one kiss, one kiss
Conjured up all those remembered
windows of the soul softening the
Jagged edges of the world
Erasing the stultifying atmosphere
Of unmistakable applications of
Symbols that try to unmake thought
His kiss provoked new meaning
The glamorous sounding world
Of ideas; A bewildering emotion
One that could not be filled
In with a charcoal pencil
A sensual communication
Only he could deliver
Wonderfully ******
Oh! The memory of the moment
And lift the curtains
Of the fringe that
Framed his face and gaze
Deeper, deeper into those
Smiling eyes; in sensuous touch
Of naked sound
Taste mysterious pulses
Imprisoned yet unbound
Spangled light reflected all around
Then we made words that pierced
The ground while echoes of
Forgotten laughter fluttered
Like a thousand birds
One moment, this moment
This kiss, Oh! His kiss
Holding in its tender touch
The promise of a lifetime
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 2:31 PM UTC