Musing in Mizzle

I tripped and fell in a coma
awoken by the smell of her aroma,
emanating from her precious pages

whisked on a voyage of her vocabulary,
as I sail the ferry
floating on phrases

lost in the lines of her imperial imagination,
that water the vegetation
with vapors in the valley of my vineyard

her love of lyrics intertwine
hydrate and immerse my mind,
with wine from grapes that grow inward

consuming the Cabernet
that spurt from her erotic essays,
and various stanzas that conduct electric sizzle

strolling through the springing rosette,
stunned from the effect
of musing in the midst of her majestic mizzle...  
                                                                       '
                                                                    ' ' '
                                                                   ' '