with a vestment tissued in a veil of steam,
the morning, like a dream, arose scented
at my window with an aim to provoke me
to adopt the guise of an irresistible blaze
fine chaired by a playful beam of the sun

sleepy, without knowing if it’s ready or not,
any beam of the moon have been let it ride
through the essences of my luring nights
controlled by the spell of your lavishly kiss
sent to feel as if I’m so close I can taste it

©ᶜᵒᶜᵒ — un-p’tit-je-ne-sais-quoi

Arows │ Adam McInnis │ Graffiti Ghosts