Under The Palm Moon

A broken step― 
halts me. I move towards 
you at the inner call. 

Clockwise, going 
sensual, you turn into 
a greek fire. 

Make me angry and suffer. 
Don't carry the legacy 
of darkpeers. 

Reading my poetry for 
a while, you fumbled 
tracing your fingers on some beautiful words. 

The moon would 
shine tonight to share the crocuses. 
I may write your name 
on scented winds. 

Easy lips. Were your trying to say something? Yet 
you fall on ancient adage.