Her divine design dances through the chaos,The fork in the door cannot deter her grace.Her form, a spectral…
It’s always about air.It’s always about drift.Wandering and wondering and wilting — in need of watering.
Thy tempting brown,dark brown skin…like raspberry coated mousse…
Day one, I hear thy voice,drawing me close. Thy smoky tuned voice…
I am the rock that the sea brakes upon,