There is a chuckle in my chest
A warmth in my breast
A touch of lighting in my mouth
In my eyes there is fire
My throat contains a choir
Splitting notes, like hairs on my head.
My fingers contain flowers
Planting kisses all the hours
On keys of an ivory bed
And yet with lashes weeping
My heart, its song is sleeping
At the end of a dream where all have fled.
Moonlit Poetry 