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Chorus of the Hour

She bent, kneeling, kind heart melting

the night expelled in phantom weeps

the carpet lined in soft moans, sleeping

curtains rustle in midnight flame

smooth and arched, her soothing limbs

whisper from her ringlet place

a dream awakened, moonlit currents

wear the footstones in ascent

hours pass with frosted breathing

settle upon a thousand breasts

morning songs, windowed light

and us, with fragile eyes, at last

alone, half-hid in imageries.

 

 

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Contest Note: I'd rather be there than here...

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Comments


  • Cannonsfire silver member
    July 24

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    This just makes you sigh for the images and beautiful sentiments in it. Thank you for this. C