She gracefully glides across the moist grass
you could see it forming to her feets side...

... And then a canopy of colors exploded,
To end in total darkness...

I was born of the ashes
of your left shoulder...

Might I be hallucinating love?
Just putting a face to the man in my dreams...

Stillness kills curiosity,
yet fascinates the human mind...

I won't say
That it was fate that we met...

Warmth...
from pressed lips...

His sturdy hands work through
the stiffness of his art...

His tongue has sturdy bumps
On from which they descend...

Hue of yellow mimics
appearance of its glorious...

What eyes intrigue me in the night
When all there is, is hooting owls...

Thy art the tiny spider
Living between the cracks...