Sunday, 21 November 2010


I see a foreshadowing of light
like candleglow in a mirror;
it will flicker through your hair
and in the comb of my fingers.

My chest will tickle with breath
saved for post-love letters;
each vowel exhaled with a smile
in the alphabet of our purrs.

Beneath my eyes you'll lie,
asking to kill the midnight light
with a blow from my lips,
a hidden kiss to the night.

But I will purse across your lids
and kiss up to your hair,
into intoxicating perfumery
distilling all my cares

and envigouring my blood;
the clock will tick on the wall,
your plane will be circling soon,
the gate will be making its call.

Sleep will be best left for later
when this memory will be alive,
not just a dream as it lives now
in the present of my mind.

Not just the future awaiting me,
bated breath all pent up now,
needing to whisper you're beautiful,
my lips against your brow.

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