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The sands of the Sahara remain unmarked by their footsteps, the pipe of happiness gone cold, fruit in the orchards of the Tien Sha..

a crisp snow fall while you play a cello suite the moon must be crying

A brilliant spectrum of cloud and snow the world below a vanishing dark spot and come the night, if it wasn’t so cold I would have dipped ..

elegant swallows poised in flight --on the cover. the first poems in print

the taste of ripe grapes from the Italian hillside still in your kisses and traces of molten sun like liquid gold, on your skin

chasing a swallow the ripples in the pond; and they are gone

In the silent chorus of dawn I bask in the glow Of your last embrace, And on the paving stones Of longing I tread impatient Towards our next en..

Strangers warble in Somerset House between mouthfuls of Hamlet and chocolate cake Underneath, the Thames flows undisturbed Out of reach, ..

the crescent moon, admiring the setting sun reclines on a cloud

pillow dreams for two; he steals into her wet dream, at dawn- the lust thief