SleepwalkerA Poem by Colin Mitchell Williams
And in the darkest sweeping wings is held all probable The night of dreamings; wished embraces of gossamer senses ponder miracles And leave their mark; ever in hope.... She is waiting Pale in naked moon lit sexual stretches Fanning shadows curve on satins anguished blue To subtle bronzed drips rusted rivers Lay about her in ever flowing delta’s of hair These the coy covers of shoulders demure beneath their lifting expectation Quintessence supplicant to floating hands; risen Her slow beat thumps on a sudden heart The fleur-de-lis arched beseeching the avid prayer of lips The floorboards creek And though through empty rooms the sighs may roam Though forever it seems she has lain alone There are eyes, by bat wing devised; by the caverns urgent aphrodisia He has been gathered by the corpuscle of desire, to come to her And by each and every silent unspent moan of longing He inscribed this hours, fretful, reflections of her mantle parted An eternal caress folded; ingress to her concupiscent heart Mere Luna beams of dreams of loves physique, his love, made love to her Dawns dissipation breaths Remembering the warmth before forgotten days; where separated so Bathes her awash in amber fire; and traces his finger along her spine To leave her sleeping in those somnambulist foot prints Looses in the languid illusive of arms, wrapped in suns breaking Turning to the light he asks for its edifice, hold fast on waking Struggle to define by wanting the irrevocable kiss; pressed to her A taste recited by those gossamer senses ponder miracles And leave their mark; forever in hope © 2009 Colin Mitchell WilliamsReviews
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