The Deer
I
The heavy scent of pine, oak, birch and hyssop,
Spins like secret sacred garlands within the breeze;
...
Come on! seize that hard fought road!
That steady stained and chiselled path,
Scratched out from our chalk filled thoughts
Which touches on our naked dreams.
...
This season is full of secret hints: of mustard spiced tints,
Which wrestle between the steps of rusted slow-dancing.
It is a secret, sacred space, where the night fingers of crows,
Stretch out in slowly expanding, ever circling swirling curls;
...
The Vamp's song.
Darling, let's detonate and render obsolete this day;
To bring about the triumphant mistress of the night.
...
I
Her eyes reflect such subtle beauty,
As in a vast and cloudless star filled sky;
While her luscious hair, weak curled, is rolling
...
O secret sacred silver world
you divinely shine here whole
and in this now pure growing light
In the hints of such subtle night
...
I sense her as she gently slips between the sheets;
While I slide along those sacred lines of near sleep,
To then rest within twilight's gossamer tainted dream.
And here I smile, for in her arms, I am so self-defined,
...
As I slowly lift my head to face the sky,
I feel the warmth of the summer rain,
Slowly kiss open my swollen eyes;
And in the midst of their fall,
...
She has these lovely butterfly eyes,
that lustre in their sweet fragility.
They look at me, so bold and unafraid;
despite her twenty three years of age,
...