The cool lines of her white top as snow over soft and rounded mountains, the feel of summer, a thin wrap unbuttoning around her hips crashed as the thunder of that night, the lightening that struck ground, the hail that pelted rooftops and she is smiling shyly at him through the dark, entering his dreams echoing'funneling their way into his hands
Void of her, void of her though so full of her, so full of her with the imprint of the night's moth dancing outside the door's lamp before the dare of sleep
Light's out and the moth is under the dome glass, holding the memory of'
Morning
Animosity takes its first breath as he opens his window for her to look in ' thoughts on empty rooms
Afternoon
and she suns the dare of embrace, of truth - at the flag of his night; red, white, and blue to burn around the pole of yesterdays and give into the arms that sweep through time
