Your scent dances, frolics with the breeze.
Teasingly waltzing with mine, I am aching,
Weakening at my knees.
Eyes all-seeing, yet lost in your gaze.
Time stands ~ as souls need not a measure ~
Passion. Fire. Your lips, I yearn for a taste.
The earth teetered…
Stopped~ Heaven Moaned.~
Our two souls, though clearly of one,
Found perfection. Its founding fire.
Proclaiming: I AM HOME
© bipolarmuse 2017