Sunday, 19 July 2009

dancing in soft rhythm
a pulling caress of nightingale vibrations
across floor tiles and damp light rooms
where we all flounder in movement
enveloped inside sunshine.
arms wrapped, limbs crodded, shirts off
sweat seaps from pores, filling the
room with a beautiful aroma of pungent debauchery
that will remain long after we have left,
and returned to morning light rooms
where some of us sleep and some of us never sleep.
The night is in our eyes and is ours forever.
let it always be this way.

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