What silken thoughts glide
in your eyes colored bittersweet
by Memory
Of honey-fingered lust?

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

While the rays of an amorous moon caress
the sleep of mortals
I drink of the Cup and

the Music of its madness
I can well remember...