Beyond the blue,
where you disrobe.
The skin of a woman,
such pale yellow light.
A summer’s heat
arched out in pleasure,
no masks are needed.
A night plucked, from a
thousand or more.
Of the skin
Beyond the blue,
where you disrobe.
The skin of a woman,
such pale yellow light.
A summer’s heat
arched out in pleasure,
no masks are needed.
A night plucked, from a
thousand or more.
A Wandering Poet 