As you sit bronzed
by the candle's tender flame
I ask you to remember.
Let my shadow rise
through the oaken boards of your wall.

Let its silence burnish the grain
with secrets spoken
once on a tongue liquered in French.

Let its grace lean into the sway
of a white curtain falling
off the wind's shoulder
like the dress of a Jamaican dancer.

A soft rhythm
we felt, inhaled
as our bodies lay cool
on textiles of moonlight
composing sleep.

LOVE that last stanza! Ooo, how divine...very, very nice!

This is yummy!!

very nice and sensual!

WOo hoo...this one was...h-o-t

more please?

sigh....I loved the line
liquored in french.....doh...wish I would have come
up with it...

Triston