MIDNIGHT MEASURES OF TOUCH

MIDNIGHT MEASURES OF TOUCH

When your lips cover me
the sultry 98 degrees of your breath
fills as your fingers gently close
then open in slow releases
to break my will.

Oh how such
the measures of your touch.

When you look at me that way as you play
the boy on a merry-go-round returns
to grin;  I melt just then, on a cool cherry
day to notes that rebuild.

Oh, I like that so
very much.

You call me to listen to your alto coo
of that which is "Lost and Gone"
without any sadness in your flirty slurs
and the accompaniment joining 
the rhythmic pull of those strings
around my whole…leads me.

The more pressed keys
the less I bleed.

Laugh...
that I may continually find you
and so forever remind you
to trust in love pure again;
allowing my whispers to come near
my small repeated strokes to dispel
the unclear.

Lover you know, I know
that bell.

So...
play that I may see into your brassy dreams
finding myself there no longer in need
your sound soothing, hands guiding
the nearness of your rise and tremble
under Luna on a tender shore
where promises nudge
embraces heal.