Timid as a moth <br />my willing wings embrace <br />the hollow of her love; <br />dark on the sheet her face. <br /> <br />Inviolate sweep and pivot of wings, <br />careful the first ascent; <br />confidence in the gear unbent, <br />her perfume smell still clings. <br /> <br />Wake to her touch, a summit <br />which defies depth; <br />raised to new heights, a plummet <br />deeper than death. <br /> <br />In harbor, anchored like a lotus, <br />my ship of painted sail. <br />The lady bids adieu, farewell: <br />I hardly even notice.<br /><br />Martin A. Ramos<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-flight/
