Dance to my tune dear young girl,
Buy my hands with the most peaceful
Noon rest, yet in this eclipse, let my
Moon prevail, save yourself from
This throbbing throes of torments,
This torture and struggle for light,
Save your fair skin from this tear
Saturated bed, from this view of
Friends contribution of saline drops.
Dance to my bàtá, wriggle your slim
Hips to these luring drumbeats of
Ambience, lose your consciousness
Into my world as your eyes glue in
Retreat from this world, into mine,
From this rasping paroxysms of pain
Into an unsure dome of laughter.
YOU ARE READING
MIDNIGHT SUN
PoetryToday, we ought to wear our gauntlets, Put on our amour and canvass grits, Forward! Though our sword are skillets, We win even though we lost by bits.
