Updated: Dec 20, 2020
A night so deep into the passion
intoxicating as the night is long,
only to taste the nectar of the song.
Pink as the petals of spring time
glistening with each kiss of the tongue,
writhing upon a bed of silk heaven
legs to the burning of the sun,
now the white rivers torridly run. . . .
Timothy Michael DiVito c2019