Sunday, February 8, 2009

Mats

Mats

A cold night brings bitter chill,
Two bodies grow cold,
An embrace, everything still,
Such warmth never grows old.

I gaze upon deep pools of blue,
The window to his soul,
Romance begins fresh and new
The moon is full.

Sculpted from the gods, perfect hands carve him lightly,
He is perfection in the human form,
Moving in, I kiss his lips ever so slightly,
His tender lips are warm.

From that moment I knew we would be together,
I hope it will last forever.

-Laura Hamada

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