Andrew David Dalby
Alight here, sweet neophyte,
and lay my heady heart to rest!
For though it is hard to hear,
the patter of your tenderness;
I vow to never dare a push,
or break, or force a nasty thrust,
As I make single statement,
that in me you can truly trust.
For you are nearly so complete,
and almost ready now to sing,
But, I sense a nervous reflection,
that slowly starts to rise within.
For in the stretching
and the beating of your powerful wings,
There rests a tousled shake,
within the gossamer nest you're in.
And though a heavy door,
longs to close upon this part of your life,
I wonder… are you ready,
for the step that leads to constant flight…
That so slow, eternal wander,
into the gentle rise of ever-evening,
Which begins with tempting delight
of such soft sensual releasing,
Yet ends in shadows that fall,
to flakes of cold ashes in patches of dull grey;
As I beg with open heart
and plead for you kind spirit here to stay.
For it is in the night, dear pupil,
I hope that you come to understand;
Where senses are matched and mingled,
entwined in my soft hand.
Then I in whispering sighing hints,
will succumb as you so gently sing
With the sublime taste upon your breath,
of sweet honey rose and jasmine.
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