Your hands pervade my very being...
As tiny droplets of sweat upon my brow
Saturate my every pore there...
Enraptured in the then and now;
You forever hold the passerpartout of my very core...
The essence of me-thus tried and true...
Never to be made of papiermache or ormolu-
Never counterfeit when i am with you;
Your arms forever delight me...
In heated splendour we simply sizzle and spark...
Even in the freezing rain of a harsh November-
Even in the tremulous of the dark;
The Grandfather clocks hands are moving counter-clockwise...
Reversing the seconds and moments spent in your arms-
Taking me back in gentle surrender...
Completely surrendering-to your irresistible charms;
From today to the days of before...
When your mere touch kindled my every desire-
I know mon amour-since days of yore...
That together-we are an Eternal Fire! ;
There is nothing to quench it-nor to drench it...!
Nothing dare put out our flame--! ! !
Together-we are-truly forever...
Even though things will never be quite the same;
Passepartout-Master Key
Ormolu-An alloy resembling Gold
May 29,2010
The Essence
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem