'tis winter.
I make a warm rug of your memories.
Hug them, smell them
and roll around within.
In rain:
You seep in-laughter, gesture and scowl;
Into the warm sands of my bosom.
The wet Earth smells like heaven.
Come autumn:
A riot of ripe desires:
flaming oranges, mellow-yellows, fiery reds
crackle beneath your stealthy steps
that walk into my days and dreams
Summer:
Heat and dust; sweat and lust.
Arid breath,
parched innards
buzzing hot, brewing in yourness….
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