The first hint of sunlight
peeking through dim shutters
the foliage of time nestled
in season's reminders
if I could describe
songs unsung by a lark, its beating wings,
whirring pinions finding notes
from his beloved
a tune, a prayer, in the mists of
morning dew, a breath that permeates thin air
I could only begin to paint a cognate
of your cries, the murmur of a child
the womb of heaven
for what is love but the throbbing
pleasure in the twinge of pain,
nocturnal fantasies in all its candor
my first and last thoughts
flicker as a firefly
midnight's rapture searching your eyes
amongst the stars

Joni T. Ramos
Copyright ©2008 Joni T. Ramos

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