A
flame flickers
In the dying light,
Licking the dusk.
Teasing spiralling tendrils
Of smoke
With her golden tongue.
She flirts with my desire
In silent dance
With velvet shadows.
Her supple warmth
Weaving hypnotic replies,
Naked and unashamed
In carefree abandon.
Waxen jewels run
Dripping cold
One upon another,
Whispers set in time,
As she sways above
Within a halo of promises,
Hopes and dreams.
* *
*
The Candle
© Susan
Harris 2005