a little more ‘poetry’

My Love

Your skin glows like the pommogranite, blossoms darkish as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your bagpipe voice and leaps like a platypus at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great lark wing.
I am comforted by your sock that I carry into the twilight of fartbeams and hold next to my elbow.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of oil.
As my head falls from my sleeve, it reminds me of your toe.
In the quiet, I listen for the last whir of the day.
My heated brain leaps to my kilt. I wait in the moonlight for your secret kneecap so that we may whack as one, brain to brain, in search of the magnificient muave and mystical motherinlaw of love.

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