Concealed in flickering shadows,
Lustful, Passionate,
The beast devours his victim’s will.
Moist flesh glistens, blazing savagely,
Against melodious candlelight.
Apollo stirs,
Fires of desire dim, yet not pass.
Strength abated, the lion sleeps,
Embracing prey with unrivaled gentleness,
Conquest achieved.
So soft he lies now, with his love.
Cradled benevolently in her calm embrace,
One would wonder as it seems,
Who is the lion? Who is the lamb?
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Prayer Upon the Wind--
I dream of breezes blowing soft across my toes,
Of birds singing simple melodies
in the far off trees.
I dream of rainy Sunday mornings
lying warm within your strength.
You gently touch your lips to my ear
and whisper those words I long to hear.
Thunder clashes and I awake,
clouds roll in the window
They settle in my heart,
salty rain falls silently upon my pillow,
I am alone.
I miss the touch of your calloused fingers
sweeping slowly down my cheek,
I miss the twinkle in your eye
as you tilt that worn western hat to one side
I miss the silky warmth of your lips
when those thoughts turn to love,
and the way you put my heart far and above.
I dream again, of a black stallion
galloping swiftly through tall grass.
I dream of its rider,
with a worn western hat and a twinkle in his eye,
rushing home to lay at my side.
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