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Ivory (A Tone Poem)

How supple your lips

The kind that were meant for kissing

I remember you

Warm and brown and how your lips invited me to dine

Candles lit I still burn mine every night about a quarter past threeThere is a memory that lives and breathes

And flows through my veins like a good drug

The thought of your lips slightly parted

Beckoning the kiss that I wished I could try out on myself

To see if it was good enough for youInto the cave where lust and love become one

You beloved meet me half way

Filling my nights and days to such extent

That I still quiver involuntarilyAs you snap your fingers

And I come running

I remember you

You are the artful dodger

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