Roses at Midnight
© Cupideros, Saturday, April 26, 2014  11:52 AM  EST

In the young, early night I gallop up fertile grassy hills
My eyes fixed high upright on glitzy twinkling white daffodils.
So far, far away they lay in my poet's pheasant blinking eye,
Memoirs were my fair bouquets such bonnets flying that ultrahigh.

Those hot flower’s wrinkles winked, flit out of reach; so I harbored
The strange doughy power-flower split under breach soft ardors.
Full aware her cycle followed the ocean's moon embodied in her
Daring flair, fin de siècle, of mighty horns and swoons buried treasure.

Who was I by luck or fate to see her lying satisfying needs?
On the beach, her legs and fingers spinning out her desperate seed.

String and plug tossed aside flowing out into the mystic sea.
Eyes shut tight, lips bit white, hips at height, fireworks her inner sight.
I half stare, as the wattle stared that fixed my feet into the sand
And asked her if she minded that we share her concessionaire.

She had needs, so she agreed and opened her arms and I flowed down.
And rest in amazing warmth, soft, peace as we mingled cheek to cheek.
There we both made the angst vanish free into the foaming sea;
Like jewels cast under heaven guided skies, trembling shaking thighs.

We found love under the nights far away fields of white daffodils lights,
And sound sleep under the void's immortal darkness and moonlit spotlight.

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