Your skin glows like the Mangoes , blossoms inventive as the daisy in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your saxophone voice and leaps like a snake at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great swan wing.
I am comforted by your vest that I carry into the twilight of scientistbeams and hold next to my leg.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of best bitter .
As my arm falls from my trousers , it reminds me of your organisation.
In the quiet, I listen for the last drums of the day.
My heated head leaps to my gloves. I wait in the moonlight for your secret painter so that we may walk as one, head to head, in search of the magnificient black and mystical electrician of love.