On A Perfect Day
A playful breeze sneaks in,
by Khris Hanson
through the open window,
soft summer sunday morning,
you sleep silently beside me;
the gentle wind takes pleasure,
combing through the tender fuzz,
covering your naked body,
like reed a bashful rivershore;
and I play hide and seek,
with the curious sun,
submerged only in the moment,
it smells like lemonfresh innocence.
The scene says: 'carry me.'
Away from here, away from you,
meeting long abandoned roots,
showing agony its alter ego;
to plant a seed in desert soil,
where an apple tree will blossom,
giving shelter to the fragile snake,
that once will tempt my longing heart;
no sin will ever be complete,
without blessing of a conscious mind,
heartfelt sorrow yields evil laughter,
it smells like yearning for redemption.
So, in this state of inner twist,
you will let be, remain unwoken,
my sweet words remain unspoken,
a second's purity remains unbroken;
a tear that does not want to flee,
chained to my soul's mirror,
will nourish our delicate love,
at last, a sign of morality?
Assured I found a piece thought lost,
I rest my head on your white pillow,
breathing against your graceful neck,
it smells like a perfect day.