Morning

I feel the breeze on my hair
and I turn my face to see the curtains
white thin veils, dancing on this 5 star suite.

Your tan body is still on top of me
my hands are glued to your hips
and you've covered me in honey dew again
as your nails have slowly carved your name on my forearms.

Impertinent sunbeams find their way to the bedroom
I look at you and I see the light of the day
reflected in your turquoise eyes
locked with mine.

I see your face and I can't believe my eyes
and I see my life depends on your high cheeks
on your full lips, half open
and on your hidden, curare spiked tongue.

Indeed, I'm a slave of the soft peach like cheeks
and of that perfect nose of yours
a nose to make Renoir blush.

Your hair falling on your shoulders like chestnut Niagaras
and on your plump grapefruit breasts
Your perfect pearled smile and your strong thorax
and that perfectly round ass of yours
(to which my hands belong)
are everything I could ever want.

I'm completely ensnared
daydreaming in the rhythmic hammock love you make
as my mind spins in this carousel inside you.

- "Good morning" you say
like a songbird tune, with Latin accents
and hypnotic tone.

I look outside
at the World
and I fall in love again
there is a God, for only he could have painted
this Renoiresque beach
and there is a Devil, and she's sleeping with me
and she knows me by name.

Unforgotten, you remain
cause when I stare at a daisy I think of your sex
diamond veils floating on the early ripples
palm trees making a breeze with their long, green skirts
the Sun bathing your face with its splendor
lighting one more day in paradise
a day that began with the morning
the morning of your eyes.

What are words if not petals and thorns that dress my soul?