As I would peel gold from a persimmon
so would I strip away hauteur
buried
behind the storm of your downcast eyes,
nothing quite touches me
like innocence
and words kept from addressing their pain.
You see I want you from your skin
to your soul,
your smile deserves to be kissed
as though clouds
that touch upon a rouge sunset,
I crave the emotions
stirring deep inside your breast
the fiery essence
of despair mingled with conviction
and hope.
You are cornucopia
of winter sunshine, fire, velvet wind, oh layers
of begrudging leaves
who for purposes benign my warm and giving
nature deceive.
Photo credits: Rusty Gold by L.L. Williams