Drawn by the pull of possibility
I am at war with resistance,
the desperate allure of words
A tender momentum of hands
on taut shoulders gently soothing
a tangled bough of willowy knots
powerless to undo a black spell night.
You are kindle igniting the perfect fire.
In the calm of dawn I am a periwinkle
at your pillow,
pale petals of desire bending
to what is golden.
innocensedawn at pinterest