Slipped with my tongue
so near your ears
so near your skin

felt the sweet sugar
from your inner fields
of red poppies

heard you say
that there is a path
all the way

to the evergreens
and the fountain
from the dark

that irrigates the nights
when people
bloom and dies

as meadows
and summer months
turning cold


Heard you
and sang
the breese of morning

and waited
for the flood
of the dark river