Free Verse # 408 (this music I heard)

My shadow softened
into her light,
a rose finally knowing
what it is to blossom.


She is not a body
but a constellation of stars
and each night, eyes closed,
with my breath I trace her,
trace her in my heart.


In my imagination
I work her body
the way the bee patiently builds
the intimate chambers of her honeycomb
using the fiery nectar of the flowers.


This music I heard
when I touched your heart
I do not want it to end


She is beautiful
the way dawn
caressing a rose
smiles in his white heart


In her touch
I want to burn and keep burning
until I am no more
than ash in the wind


Dans mon imagination
je travaille son corps
comme l’abeille patiemment
façonne les chambres de sa maison
avec le feu brulant des fleurs


In every poem I read
I search for the whiff
of her fragrance,
the secret intuition that led
the poet’s pure vision,
the hidden hand that guided
the fervent spill of his heart.

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