The Web Poetry Corner - M A Heathcote - Dust of my black wings
Dust of my black wings
M A Heathcote
You touched me firstly in the sunlight
I touched you secondly in the moonlit-night
Thirdly you touched me on red velvet velour
It was then I lost count, and sang, amour!
Like a moth passionately, driven, mad...
She blew the dust of my black wings...
My heart and soul danced, pattern-plaid
In the weft of her pale limbs fittings
I was her sun burning pleasure
As did moonlight, become, her.