Incandescence shimmers through the thicket—fur glistening heavenly in the starlight. Canine paws imprinting on the dewing topsoil.
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Gift me hardcover vintage books of authors long lost, dead and forgotten
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You could feel my leg bouncing against
Yours. I brushed fingers with my Dream
And found it wanting;
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clink, utters the mast, then clink again again clink phieeew the wigeon not-quite-sings to the lapping waterblanket
the wigeon has troubled the immodest sky the immodest stillness of the sky
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Something sent him. Arriving, he must be received,
With grace, with gentle grace,
As gentle as the sound he makes,
The sound with which he touches my not yet sleeping soul.
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I feel the weight of your body,
all those memories bound,
tingling on your skin – slowly release.
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Soft-voiced creature
With eyes as pale as molten caramel
Or misty blue skies,
When will you be mine?
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I met Fate in the woods,
"Fancy seeing you here," I said
"Oh, please," she replied, "This was meant to be."
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