Eyes hot and seething magma

molten yet fluid as Vesuvian streams

hint more than a well-read novella

of wants needs and dreams to be dreamed.



Hands steady as Dover 'scarped chalk

betray the quicken pulse in loud exclamations

of quietudes spent 'long rain-filled walks

visioning forays in far-flung destinations.



Legs that at length stride with purpose and in tune

with rhythm and pace to span the great divide



twixt time and space on a long foretold rune

of Skild warriors with passionate, fiery pride.



Lips that with a kiss could melt the hoary ice

from a cold heart that yearns to roll Eros dice.

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