My answer is never
For it's only lost in my chambers

It's like a cornacopia
Overflowing with passionate wonder

A bond of realism
With a surrealist stroke

A graceful touch
Performed like a dove's dance

Beautiful beginning
At the birth place

A symphony of warmth
Surrounding gold candlelight

Deep brown eyes
Attacked by blackness of night

True difference unheard
While ignited flames burned

Rules and borders
When I only patrol my own mind

Cotton softness
Slender willow scented like a rose

Breath above her neck
Below the listening sense

A life a little ordinary
Conquered by the extraordinary

Rain poured
Down souls of bodies

I whisper to her skin
   With my fingertips

Touched once
   And forever remembered



© 1998 David Greg Harth
98.01.17.00:00:00@NJNYC
98.01.21.00:00:00@NJNYC