in a sequence of sensations,
so short-lived, so fleeting,
there is a transient moment,
a haunting reluctance of reality,
an evanescent tug at reason,
a brief, joyous, vision of insanity,
lifting one into an unimaginable scape,
there in a fleeting dream, I saw you,
and knew, that I floated above,
as a clouded ceiling fills the sky,
I felt, omnipotent, limitless,
your outstretched form, below,
stirred, as a butterfly released,
you fluttered into this reverie,
and, captured by the magic
of a shared dream, sparkling,
warm with desire’s hunger,
rising, from the tangled sheets,
on tip toes, reaching toward me ,
then, placing your moist red lips,
on my skin, pressing them gently,
searing my flesh with a biting caress,
the ephemeral became, morning love.
©2012, Donald Harbour
Beautifully sensual poem, Donald. Nicely paced.
Love the sensuality in this…….
Incredibly sensual and visual…you trace the rising of the two dreaming spirits to meet and unite. I like that.
WoW! Why do all the best dreams come just before we have to wake up and get busy? Seems such a waste when we could have had them all night!
I love your response to the image. I was quite joyous when I realised what was happening in the poem, with the WWP’s photograph in my head.
Love your blog header, by the way. Gorgeous and funny.
Wow, the header, Donald! Holy moly! And the poem unfolds like lips too. Very unBuddha!
I note that Margo was “joyous”. That’s infectious.
Ooh la la!
I had not read this yet Donald…..very nice…thanks again fro sharing your words