What sound is this
his shadows make
that brushes 'cross my thighs
sighs borrowed from wind
as love he makes
through inclined willow's branches
dropping diamonded leaves
as question marks
green breezes wove in wooden chimes
lifting lightly gilded wings
before caressing
with lovers hands
my restless hair
my waiting face
eclipsing all of me
leaving
within me
hushed emerald light
as his gentle soul
stains softly
the edges
of my heart
spreading out
his zephyred ripples
to the very ends
of me.
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