Her subtle glances
and seductive winks
are found in dances
in the midst of night,
where bygone chances,
lost beneath the Sphinx,
beyond expanses,
seek the hope of sight.

‘Cross the dunes of time
her solace endures,
resonating chimes
as metaphor’s ire
has extinguished rime
yet seeks to assure
not one fruitless climb
to obtain desire.

So we waltz as one,
she, my unseen muse,
and I, now undone
am left without choice
to no longer shun,
to end the abuse
of silence’s stun
on the mirth of voice


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s