Modern Romanticism

She’s come here
to spread silk,
to unleash her caress,
after her velvet gaze
notes the landing.

She has arrived
from not much further
than an inch away.

It is where she’ll stay
on this newest of days
when skin touches down.

Close the curtains,
keep one light on
to see the beckoning
glimmer that attracts
someone to speak
into her ear.

Bring her down
on outspread layers,
where bodies melt,
where eyes will roam
over a sparkling sea
of excited flesh.

Like land, she’ll grow
her fruit from seed sown.
From fire, life has space
to raise from much grace.