(12 May 1828 – 9 April 1882 / London / England)

Winter Night

Ice fingers reach
through flimsy walls
and well-soiled window panes
for limbs and pulsing loins,
exhausted the supply of sheets
duvets enriched with flannel thread,
goose down enclosed,
Canadian spirit living on.....
your fingers eager, gentleness
a natural priority, innate
it must be love, the thought remains,
hung in the frosted air, a cloud of
pink and knitted pheromones,
now tasting of herself and shared
as stars, in orderly array observe
and lend their measure of pure fantasy,
the wonder of a fusion's breath
immersed to rise again, to seek
caresses to the tune of doucement,
oh, les Français, l'amour est magnifique,
he whispered then about the lemon squeezed,
still shy of her, bathed in the spirit's awe,
the bud of roses as it hums uncurls with ease,
the world has warmed and sent away the silly tease.

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