quarta-feira, 18 de fevereiro de 2026

Wet Ceilings of the night

 I loved my night
My hands reached up to touch sensation
Luminaries turn on the orange
Anticipation flows out of the bulbs

Tone feminine soft long honeylike
she loved looking up at the ceiling
Banquet table empty
dessert was served hours ago

From the ceiling a fresh creek sprang
With it's own aquatic plants, pebbles and fish
Floating in mid air illuminated falling into the table
Right into her yearning eyes

What does one search for in the night
Is there some whim the day may not fulfill?



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