Outside the rustic porch,
near the stairs that bloom with magnolias,
a dim light highlights the braided daisies in your hair.
While at the corner in the roof – a candle, white and pure,
sways from a rope attached from a hook
just like my heart does for you.

It seems as if each step your hands give
towards opening the front door-
where dreams are the entrance to your home,
spark a fire in its mesh, a burning desire
to melt its wax with the heat of your touch.

Even the old swing flirts with your skirt
as the wind swirls a mischievous breeze
against its black dotted fabric.
The wooden floors smooch your sandals
with a squeaky passion heard by the entire boulevard,
And let’s not forget, how the rural windows
stalk your eyes until your legs feel,
a creeping rush to refuge in your room:
the sanctuary where a wall mirror
reflects my presence in your collarbone,
the jewel everyone dreams to kiss
but that only I do.

Written by: L.L

 


 

 

 

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