During the night

During the night as I lie thinking of you,
moths are visiting through the open window.
They are making their way to my bed past
the night light, their colour the dark amber of
your hands like pianists' hands, the raised
pattern of their wings like your veins..
I could scarcely feel your delicate
palms on me, your feel was so light,
the exquisite scrape of an insect's leg
across my breast. No touch like yours
ever before. I dream I open my legs
and feel your thighs between them,
velvet wings...

Poetry by Scharlie Meeuws
Read 445 times
Written on 2007-09-19 at 21:53

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