a moon aflame

It is only now when I craving
close my eyes, sighing for
this brightly burning need of you,

my muse, my ever urgently
infusing illumination waxing
gloriously by the light of Serene,

presaging dark before dawn caressing,
plying your hands across my need,
pleading with me for pleasures more,

as probing moonbeams descend
from, my quiet, quivering love, you
exciting eddies over the waters

that warmly pulsing flow through me
from the very deepest source of most
sweetly trembling teasing you,

who, so insightfully imparting
deliciously these whispered moans
of moistly possessing passion,

draws from the dark a light
in me that seethes with desire
and fire and a moon ever aflame.

[Of moonbeams and the dark before dawn.]

8 thoughts on “a moon aflame

    • Again, yes. My dear Allison, thank you. You have enriched my night with your understanding. I am a poor architect. I take little time to ponder. It falls from me, whether I choose or nay. Tumbled and tousled indeed. As impetuous and honest and messy as the soul and heart that composes it all. Thank you so much.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you, dear George, for being so everkind with my thoughts. You allow the poem its own breath and pulse and bone and blood, such a desperately rare thing to experience. Thank you for enriching me, too. May you bathe in the beauty of this weekend’s full moon… the first full moon of Spring.

        Liked by 1 person

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