The Drummer girl that preyed upon my imaginations,
Continues the beating of her drum,
And soothed by the compassionate wind,
She sings my dreams.
They resonate through the meadow,
Causing ripples within the trees,
As teardrops coursed down her face,
Carving jagged canyons filled with details of the past,
She became the artist that sculpted her name within me,
Through a chain of physical metaphors and similes.
Similar, said she, to the candles that bring forth two bodies whose shadows,
Dance so sinisterly on the wall.
As the walls begin to sweat.
Obscured by the steam that’s so thick,
From the hot water cascading over our bodies,
That I can barely see you in front of me.
But I can feel you.
I pull you closer, letting the intensity of passion take over,
You are my lover, and the candles burn ever brighter.
Time is being consumed by desire and we quicken our pace.
Until finally with a gasp and a wisp of smoke, the scene goes blank.
The fire if allowed to burn, will burn itself out,
Reaching its climatic end, does the light finally go out;
And with that, we were plunged into darkness together.
Never to be seen again.
Wishing I could close my eyes repeat this dream as this poem also comes to an end.