the cellos

so much do i want my mind to roam
whisk you away from your home
maybe a minute or an hour
upon a path or a trail
the one that gives us most power.
even if it were on a busy street
at a table, a cafe
eating a sweet treat.
to watch the crumbles from your mouth fall
as if i were to stare upon your all
to watch the movement of your lips...
even if you mumbled..my ears would hear bliss...
your poem in which you describe the forbidden kiss...
i wonder if he knows he does miss.
to watch your lips...and wonder of what they have possessed.
quote to me your poetry...
read to me
in the minutes that we steal...
imaginary or real...
like a band-aid...for to heal.
if i could give a rose
or from my hand this stone...
for a moment ..just me and you alone...
if by chance we were to catch the night
stars a blaze...
patterns bright as they lay...
she, the moon,
her fullness... i would ask her to loam...
for to see better your soulful tune
as the music would play...
the cellos and their moans...
the trees and their wind felt groans...
to personify...
and not to ask why.
with a soft sigh...