In February. Reverie

 

There is a point in your life when love becomes a summon

The surge of love affairs

When you have to choose

Between two, three or four lovers -                                             

To love or not to love

To continue or to leave.

Touching of hands, there is romance.

That fearless gaze

That longing for the other

Your heart in a chase.

First times, a revelation

In the kitchen

In the car park

In front of a Shrine

Or beside the lake.

Rousing as initiation, compels blood

Agitated breasts, whispers of air

Fiery moments of passion.

What happens in the South stays in the South

Nothing measures to love

In these moments of truth;

Thee forever

In a sanctum of grace

In this eternity, you are mine.

/rosevoc

5:19PM 2.5.2023