Technicolor Dreams

2

As of now,
I yearn for nothing more,
Than to lay my head upon a field of ivy,
clad in snow-

Adjacent to the one I love,
To stare deeply into his eyes,
Redolent-
Of a comfort I've come to have a fondness of

To feel,
the dichotomy-
The juxtaposition of his warm hand,
Entwined with my own,
The cold snow,
melting-
Upon the slightest touch of our fiery
passion

An understanding

Of a feeling,
unknown to many-
The barren winterland,
in its midst,
I-

But void of a frigid tundra

Rather,
A warmth I have not known,
Yet its touch is familiar

Time is a concept to us,
unbeknownst-

Lay we down,
Upon the pearlescent canvas of a slumb'ring spring,
Obscurèd by its powdery façade

To dream,
for an eternity-
'Till the last glowing coal of our affair
Is engulfed by the flames,
Which lap at its form

Much like the warmth,
To us it hath borne-
Our love shall forever be a feeling reminiscèd
Degusted long after it hath ceased