A scented look
A sleep-filled touch
A soft-centered sigh
Wrapped within the arms of ripened tenderness
Sweeping knuckles barely glance the skin
Softly focused on that now.
Two breaths, two spoons, motes dance in the shaft
Of greyness
Rolling and burrowing, the cotton nest warm.
Cherishing.
A soft lip feathers out warm.
Whispers nothing
One moment peace descends
And rests it’s traveller’s head
Cradled in the aroma of colourless dawn.
We draw down the moon
And raise up the sun
Shifting the air with joyous laughter
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem