It was in the silence

Of the night

She came to him.

As she entered:  

The scent of Frankincense;

Purification of space.

The sound of wind through the trees,

The buzzing honey bee heavy with pollen.

A lover’s sigh;

Ecstatic contentment.

As she exhaled apples would ripen.

With her smile wine would flow.

Without words she shared

Divine illumination.

His hand would dance

Across the page;

Passionate consummation

Of  words.

In the morning he would wake

Alone and spent.

Her scent lingering in the air.

Heralding his Metamorphosis.



Posted on May 28, 2013, in art, Poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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