12 Hundred Hours

That smile of coy wanting

Envelops me again within your essence

A climbing inner warmth

To ease away all that is not you

 

The spilled ink of rapture

To blot out all but us

To lock our eyes

And urge sweet giggles

Like the trickling drops

of an overflowing fountain

 

Each move we make

Clinging to the other’s

Like a shadow

And we are that

Shadows

Always connected

Longing to rejoin within the perfect light

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