sex is for the poor amid the rubble
of their earthquakes fleeing from
the death squads one last shot at
heaven offchance tomorrow comes
substitute consumption with
life’s
untaxed little luxury
so far away my memory of morning
you woke me flew us both to Paris
walked me on a whim hand in soft-skin
hand the blue stone cobbles made love
in gold sunlight saw colour anew
how perfect thank you dear Kerri :)
ReplyDeleteI had to have two goes at it Robbie, my first one was a horror. xx
DeleteLovely
ReplyDeleteso fluid +++
ReplyDelete