Friday, February 09, 2007

Blue Winter

The night heralds windsong,
the breath of frost on skin.
I sit quiet and listen
to the majestic promise
of icy fingers on flesh.

I have woven summer's rays
of lust and sunlight
into a blanket of salty kisses
to trail over the curves
of your shoulder, erasing chills.

Winter sings loud the defeat of
a hot spicy day; mere memories now.
But I believe that if you
kiss me, man of cinnamon and fire,
winter will sing spring eternal

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