The curtain of all my emotions;
plush and draping down in fushia;
I'm in love, wither of love and time;
I am the loose leaf of spice.
The bed so offset bumps over canopy -
and therefore a boozing shooting star;
with snow clinging in timid and jealously,
a one lily white dreaming in sketch
leaning in the far forward of eyes -
I am shaken from this cooing feeling;
in which the length of my love is tongue tied.
copyright 2010
