|Hear in the varied colors,
like the sound of a drummer drumming
or the perfect tapping of a sizzle;
brass can be difficult to shine,
but you sparkle in my eye on you
like a sunbeam bouncing off rolling waves
in autumn by way of the west wind.
Come sail with me into hidden thoughts
of what it would mean to touch
the leaves we’ve walked on before
it is too late and we wake up
with sounds of reality pounding our heads
on each other until quickly the howl
of notes from wolves about the harvest moon
fill us with ecstasy
in the beat beating through our bodies
moving us to dance like children
and we touch for the first time
while swallows swallow their meals
in insane flight and erratic feelings.
There are no more voices or exotic beats
but we are beat to fall into each other
and escape to all the wants
except the warmth of our bodies talking.
Holding you is the healing in a process
that does nothing but improve
and it is highly recommended that a howl
occurs like the spread plumage of the peacock.
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