The Moon Full Plays

 
The moon full, plays the passing night,  
Old master’s staff that taps its way,  
In dreams that taste of peach and smoke,  
I find my way to your slow want.  
 
On tiger pads, in streams of sleep,  
The moon full, plays the passing night.  
I pass my hands through streams of you,  
The hands which offer you my gifts.  
 
In drifts of joining us, in dreams,  
Eyes closed, yet drinks these visions in,  
The moon full, plays the passing night,  
With deft and simple touch arouse.  
 
How we complete and taste our song,  
Like specters meshed in crossing flows,  
Like moans of pleasures fully spent,  
The moon full, plays the passing night.