The Muse Conversations Pts 26, 27, 28 and 29

Pt 26

I accept with an open heart your softly whispered caresses,
I offer my undying love and respect in return for your most graciously
gestured gift.
I love the way you say love, full of conviction.
I woke this morning like normal to the breathing of a dove, such
simple and understated words that hold me abreast.
I adore you my radiant butterfly, your wings glisten with me.
I will soar with you to untold summits,
I will investigate any depths, with you by my side.
I love you now, as I did yesterday, as I will tomorrow.
You are my pillow cradle, in your glow I submit my sleep.
I love you my darling angel.

Pt 27

Still closer, like an advent of hearts
opening like the sun upon this new day,
reaching for the wind with fingers yearning to feel.

I cling to your alabaster shoulders of peach,
you my steadfast fruit of desire, who prolongs my destiny.

Still closer to your nearness of hearth that wades in my eyes,
your slender limbs like legs of tall grass,
that saunter into my life like the days without hours.

Still closer, still closer to that infinite grace,
your gazelle like exterior that that extracts this tourmaline,
polishing and refining these words, as if they are predestined.

I adhere to you my new moon sun, my fallen angel, my glorious
blue sky, I am the tresses under your wings, holding you aloft.

Still closer, this granite interior eroding like sand, tiny glass
pebbles, smoothed by your eloquent ways that calm my storms.

This is an advent, I am getting closer, I can hear your heart beating,
I can sense you in me, I call for your touch, to be held by your flight,
I am nearing my love.

Pt 28

A Clearing

Their you go again, opulent and fabric silk lips
speaking about interwoven tapestries and chalk
board silhouettes of the finest silver and gold
leaf mouths that wrap themselves around and pout
like sunshine tinsel paper.
I look up to sky blue and not asking anything of me
or the window pane wind that whispers about curtains
shimmering like silver dollar charms, and all I can
remember, is the way the moon shone stars in your eyes.
I follow where I have never tread, and in that place where,
only you could take me, the dawn pokes me onward,
and the light gathers in the West valley
sunset, I see swan white kisses shaped like hearts,
and the sound of your smile.
Their you go again , spinning yarn gold trinkets
for me to trip over, in the mirrors vertical stare,
take me there.

Pt 29

I will have to circumnavigate the summit of Mt Vesuvius,
raise it from its ashes and tilt it on its axis, so that
water can speaks its liquid.
I would have to topple the Eiffel Tower steel, without damaging its architectural structured lines
of ink rust, brittle red and revealing my construction, one intricate syllable at a time.
I would need to swim the deepest skies without altering a single blue cloud, and jump over the rainbows you have so precisely placed like steeplechases for me to stride over.
You bring me to such plateaus of terra cotta realization, when the sun and sky meet in one beautiful eye, when the merging of all things
crowns every beautiful hour.
You beckon this voice from its nether channels,
producing its dew of papaya fruit, and pretty black seeds, that slip from your hand like ink.
You ask me to write you, like a lotus still blooming white flower, and when the petals sing, and the dolphins sigh melodious. It is here, oh yes it is here, where the horizon sheds the day, and upon the smile is only laughter. Here where when it unwinds all that is left is the strings of silk, the strands of honey, the most succulent nectar. Here that their is only you.