Sitting At The Windowsill

Sitting at the windowsill
Fingers stained by my ink
Face red & tranquilly humbled
Cold & tumbled; too frozen to think
The nights are dropping temps
I’ll need to do everything to keep warm
Though I’m unwrapping each layer
Eagerly embracing your gracious form
Life is a fine chance to love you
Trading kisses as I adjust your weary crown
Telling stories of our younger days
& the magic that happened in a little Arizona town

Image by Lou Blazquez from Pixabay

Wanting To Dance Naked

Wanting to dance naked

Instinctively wanting to go down

Perfection within moonlight

Wearing her like a crown

Hearing her voice serenade

She’s what dreams are made of

Drifting off to Neverland

Knowing how Southern girls love