Nights of trills, coffee colored
Trees flee past my window.
Fleeing into reality.
Traps with strong teeth catch
My soul in a whirlpool of
Mystic shadows.
Dragging the ego into a stunted world
Of trees and radio knobs.
Pours the rain into gutter barrels.
A top of a white cloud two feet small.
Cleats of repression step
On a small boy's time.
Five teardrops tell
Of my love for this woman.
Hesitating arms yield a sob of passion.
White days as nurses see I am fine.
Golden nights of warm tenderness sweep
The cobwebs from the sand.
Prints of erotic faces become
Distorted and only you, yes you my darling exist and remain in focus.