From those locks of auburn fire
Come daytime dreams of pure desire
Caution, cunning I conspire…..
Flaming fingers forked and falling
In my haze they whisper calling
With the hour glass now at attention
I approach the flames with apprehension
My movements fluid within ascension
Gentle breeze breeds turbulence
Hard to target, add suspense
This auburn river bright and flowing
Shows the signs of perpetual lowing
While on my sleeve my heart I'm stowing
The sound of silence soothing entrance
As if to dare me do the dance
Sweet chestnut frosting on the bundt
And from the back where I confront
Like jackals running to the hunt
I make my move from sweet temptation
And take my prize…. one aspiration <><
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Jake, such a lovely write...10+++