(A memory; a dream; perhaps fragments of this and that and the rest, fiction - dreaming about love for ever and ever):
I remember stars dancing
on the tip of my tongue.
Sparkling stars
crossing my tongue
with light yet flickering,
dancing footsteps.
A rosebud caressing
another rosebud.
Kissing and kissing
until our lips were as one;
a single rosebud
the colour of flushed cheeks.
The scent of rose
lingering in the air,
our fingers intertwined.
The maps of our palms
smudging together,
fluid ink travelling down our wrists,
then all over the bare of our universe.
As one we were
