So much has come and gone,
and the luxury streets sleep on.
Words buried by chains and noises,
and the sun shines at a great distance.
My love, whose hair is blackfire
tells me vision is the
most powerful thing.
I close my firefly eyes,
and her gaze holds mine.
Lips on her yellow skin,
a soft moan escapes.
I know then, my wings are real.
Riding on a bright moonbeam,
to another place, another time.
She absorbs me, within.
A Wandering Poet 