The Only You.

Poem no 4 in the Verse Cycle TO YOU.

In this moment the day is just about to break
in fresh numbers, number all your grace
and my tired spirit bearing no more harms,
The smell of your aura now closely attending
bringing endless joy, that I embrace,
saving in my bosom, keeping in my arms.

My skin, my longing palm, grow red and sore
from dripping tears in darkish blue
drizzling down my blushing cheek,
I gladly would remove, as the morning dew
and wasted blood will fully vanished
when pleasure allows a fervent reverie, anew.

In that, my made up, and ceremonious dream
with the sensation of a wild, primitive origin.
I found You, while My pen has formed thy nobility,
thy high forehead, thy brave mouth,
thy proud walk and straight shoulders,
that placed you on thy solid ground.

You live within me, feeling all my thoughts
You paint my dreams in winter skies that blend my sight
In summer green, the windy travel of dried flowers,
the grass, in where our humble fondling lives
and our silent breath, our fragility in budding love
rise our tenderness, Trembling.. Our lips.

Moments of raptures, fast passing away, fading
but You do know them, in every shade,
The dreams, the obvious record of your memory
the journey of love, reflected in your face
tempting me to wondrous achievements
and I drop my eyes, blushing,
totally dazzled by the Only You.

February 2018 ©k.c.