How does my
moonlight poetry
capture the void
I need filled?
~
In the dead of night
she calls to me
softly on fluttering wings
she is born of silence
and icy howling winds
We meet in twilights
a simmering haze
where our eyes betray
our wonton and heartfelt gaze
She touches me with her fire
It does more
than warm my soul
She nurtures me lovingly
always watching
as she watches me blossom
And how gracefully
I throb
and spill my seed
deep within her
moist silken folds
