Into her room he walked to find
a silence in the air
above her bed she hung a dress
and twisted it with flair
the shutters hung in lazy folds
to shield the room from heat
from noon sun blazing in mid-day
to make a cool retreat.
He wished her sanctuary to become
an altar for his passion
as there he stood amongst the shadows
with growing fascination
suddenly without provoke
her image flashed before his eyes
at once he felt a sudden rush
to give the deepest of his sighs.
When he was younger and hot-blooded
and freely swayed and moved by love
He would become intoxicated
with images of dames thereof.
In thoughts of passion and devotion
he reeled and tossed in dizzy spins
where time and space and other such
where thrown away to all four winds.
In time he found that such emotions
were doomed to fail right from the start
for on-the-whole no dame of beauty
cared to know his depth of heart.
As years went on and he discovered
that love eludes as it unfolds
his bleeding heart he closed at once
his young hot blood had turned cold.
Then she came along with madness so divine
to bring those dizzy bouts of passions now refined
his icy blood she thawed to pulse in beating veins
she guided him to her to sooth their aching pain.
Into her soul he came
to feel his love returned
it struck him dumb with awe
and gratitude and yearn.
*
©Yakira Shimoni Fulks
September 18, 1998 | Graymoor, IL
Photography Asaf Fulks at The OC Recording Company
CanonUSA EOS 5DS 79mm
There was a time | Mamacita Fuego
