I have no access to her heart <br />except this that is granted to me <br />through her eyes and her ears; <br />open to my words and my voice. <br /> <br />I rehearse all that is beautiful <br />about her. Behold it is a real beauty; <br />pasteurized with a true philocaly <br />Sweet as cream her alabaster skin…. <br /> <br />With dimples exposed to me <br />beneath her sheer linen sheets <br />I am beckoned to her table; <br />I bring with me my hunger. <br /> <br />My thirst, my plans salivate <br />for a drink from such a chalice <br />all golden in color and perfectly <br />shaped to fit my erotic desires <br /> <br />To lie down with her in my arms <br />while the mushrooms take effect <br />and my words become silver clouds <br />to fill her precious heart and head…. <br /> <br />2008 © TS<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/places-where-we-are-free-to-dream/
