A cloud of steam, meandering
amid the memories. Flesh responding,
tingling, as past became reborn.
A spasm of reforming variation.
To pick and choose each
moment rarely lived.
Free from all the humdrum of unceasing repetition.
Twisting in a new, empathic way.
Feelings flowing through, that didn't stay.
Hissing in the cool night
air, the heat
repeated all their desperate need.
Released by just a loving touch
as the need became too much.
The alchemist would play
with his assistant.
Distantly surmising every change.
A scent, a sound. The liquid swirling round.
Enclosed, the beat became their everything.
A scene that seemed beyond
Black to white - and then the indigo became
the reason for the sun amid the rain.
Spirit was the meaning of it all.
Indulged, and then compressed
within the flesh.
Cells altered by the need to intermesh.
What kind of babe would come from such a storm?
Thoughts fly away as quickly as they come.
Until the only thing that's
left is their sensation.
Tone received by multi-hued vibrations.
A sultry moan, and then the great release.
Moments of a pure, outstanding peace.
Urged by sleep into the
they somehow knew their world was changed.
By a cloud of steam, meandering
amid the memories...
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2003 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .