Throwing Poetics to the Wind

Donning in softness they caress,
With gentle touch of lips,
The tender, dancing tongs,
Hold fast, the vase of love.

The taste of sweetness, takes a plunge;
Down the slope, with an angel twist,
Upon the swans, of a setting sun,
Like soft mounds, upon a dusky cheer.

The velvet yield, and gentle drop,
The whispering raiment, cast aside...
Falls to ground, and spinning
Like a rose, treasured love unfolds.

Gliding through to the very core,
Sipping with delicate pauses, at oasis spring,
Near the centre, at the border of gems,
Amorously rest, in lingering laps.

The damp, fiery tongs are seared;
Dipping into the flowery urn,
To scoop the laving juice of desire,
On quivering leaves from branches high.

Softly, planting tiny kisses,
Across the apple of the eye,
With hordes of dancing butterflies,
To dance, the dance lovers keep,
On the hill, they roll and creep.

©Paterika Hengreaves
Spring 2006/Ohio, USA