Our naked poetry across the floor
Has done it once again with brilliant flair:
The quill, the well, the ink, the other shore.
Unlike a muse you're worthy to adore;
I love to twirl verses in your hair! --
Our naked poetry across the floor.
For when my fingers look inside your drawer
I feel like Pablo in your playful stare:
The quill, the well, the ink, the other shore.
Our rolling, wine-bent tongues will always soar
As we adventure up the evening stair...
Our naked poetry across the floor.
Of all the vibrant patterns to explore
The rose of alchemy is best affair:
The quill, the well, the ink, the other shore.
We've worn the parchment through and lie here sore
But fleshed out poems expend with much to spare:
Our naked poetry across the floor:
The quill, the well, the ink, the other shore...
Adding your comment:
I definitely enjoyed your reference to Neruda in this penning, my Friend. I think he would be quite pleased to think that his work had inspired this piece, albeit in a small way. This is a magnificent poem overflowing with youthful vigor and your trademark humor, as well. Bravo, Maestro. Your words shall live on. And thank you, again, for the lovely rose, Julien. 
