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My Oasis

How long,
should it matter
or is it just desire
out-living performance?

They lay beneath desert moon
Turning toward the past
Placing blame on the:
Sand-blind -eyes
Heart in bind
Face in frown
Idle arms
Bridled mouth
Now, passion upsurges!

His arm surrounds her waist
His eyes gleam lust as
Both relax in shade
Hands stray
Poetry awakes
Passion stirs:
male drone takes scent of
sweet nectar -filled orchid;
Fluttering, humming, and
pulsating to the sound of wings-
then performs magnificently.

looking down into the face
of her newborn babe hushed
against her bosom suckled
feeding warm-sweet -milk.
Douse in delight, completing
one another as warm cream
fills the void.
Her oasis,
Her sanctuary.
Their safe heaven to
Dwell repeatedly.


[this is a 2nd edition,1st written in the raw 2004 when my years of journaling morph into poetry.
Copyright 2005

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