Somewhere in a dim corner
of the world,
twosunburnt reapers meet
between the roses and the rue.
like the drifting foam of a restless sea
when the waves show their teeth in
the flying breeze,
and they're washed ashore on the
blood of the rose red wine.
and there it begins with a single touch,
of her ivory hands on the center
of his chest,
there he stands drenched
in a fitful fantasy, exhaling ballads
to the golden wall.
her eyes locked with his in a single
breath shared, her palm in his hand,
his heart on her lips.
the promise of a kiss,
when the gloom of the dark blue night is gone,
and the spear of the lily pierces the moon.
and there it ends,
tiptoes upon seashells,
slow dancing on sand, like poet
and muse.
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