You burnish the moon
on an otherwise inveigh night
see I could still see ….
anew … of only
me and you;

Your body painting
with the innate brush
of my folded fingers;
Firm smooth paints -
and turpentine grease -
filling sense of your fragrance
slow stroking shocking lush
and sudden lurch of sea side rush;

My body craving
for the sustaining love;
Or is it aspersed lust -
to make up for something
that bears close resemblance;
But then red will red
and white will be white
forever with or without
the sprinkled thrust;

Our thrust ….
Your … mine … ours ….