To meander randomly, stroll quietly, write with a purposeless purpose; let words have their way, pleasure me, I say.
The little wordy handkerchiefs of grief are dry, crackling with starch and ironed but they blow now in the wind, freely moving voile. Sometimes they have a stiff upper lip, these words, I want to nudge them then into a gently gliding smile.Make love to me, molten liquid words, kiss me wet and linger, words don’t you abandon me, ever.
Don’t be shy.
Open me up to the world, take me to its delightful heights or then bring the world to me; I promise you won’t be disappointed. I’ll give you lacy words; I’ll give you silky solace, words don’t you leave me, ever.
By the day, down meandering lanes, where breathy life shelters in cafes; sit with me awhile as I tuck you into my paper, capture you forever in inky blots on napkins with spring Daffodil sketches as the filtered aroma of a creamy cappuccino wafts sighing up to us.
I’ll bed you by the night; take you to dreamscapes where I paint passion with a luminous brush and whisper wordy iridiscence. Lets tuck ourselves in, lost in each other as the room rises and falls with us with its smiling walls lustily cocooning us and the windows lower their eyes in innocence.
Be my love.