What silken thoughts glide
and flicker
in your eyes colored bittersweet
by memory...

Of honey-fingered lust
erasing all but my one bright star
reigning in the Dawn
undimmed by the heat of her ascent

Over wine-dark seas now
you shine forth amongst the women of Asturia
enriching with gentle flowers
foreign fields
far from me

My thoughts of you, bright tendrils
twine, sighing
like old music, playing on my breast

Your kisses like rapture’s fiercest rain
falling
between thighs unclasped beneath your lips

I drink of the Cup and the Music
of its madness I can well remember...