Free Verse # 88

Your love,
a lightning insatiably
licking at my skin.


With soft lips
you press your poems
like seeds into my skin,
and then you breathe,
and lo!, each seed is a flower
singing fragrant praise.


Her breath seeps,
a wet, silver veil
teeming with
burning stars.


Naught is there to life but this…

My love,
we are eternal wanderers
casting our sail
between the moon and sun,
through the sea of stars.

Each night
our loving embrace
is an oasis,
a tender desert flower
filling up with ecstasy
and dancing
until the break of dawn.