erotic visions invade
my mind and like
glimpsing a falling star
I hunger for more

I am alone so my
sensual pleasure
is private and
virtuous but

my thoughts carry
unbrideled passions
to places dark
and so forbidden

like a curious moth
to an inviting and
hungry flame,
and it is here

in the abyss of my
deepest desires
that I view my
brazen half-truths

through a tattered
gossamer cloth as it
discreetly warms that
inquisitive moth and

abandoning my universe
for one which does not
really exist, my passions
crescendo and explode

a radiant shower of
bright shooting stars
silently caress my
body and soul with a

shattering intensity
beyond my control
stealing my secrets
as they slowly go

a gossamer cloth
transforming a magnitude
of sins in one blinding
universal moment and

I hear the whispers
of falling leaves
as velvet butterflys
brush my cheek and

my senses surrender
to the sandman who
draws so near, furtively
his essence, my perfume

I see him nightly
his penetrating eyes
reflecting a passion
he cannot share

a cool breeze breaks
the quiet clarity
of my earthly
unreality and

in half-slumber,
I drape myself
in the warmth of a
gossamer coverlet

whispering leaves and
the summer breeze
stay with me as I
dream of him until

I am awakened by
chirping birds and
the swift reality of
the morning dawn and

my gossamer cloth is
nowhere to be found but
I'm thinking maybe
the sandman has it...