The end of summer

~

The coffee sits cold and forgotten
a liquid shadow in the silence of night
where movement becomes ethereal and silken
with a touch of the butterfly
as she kisses the gravestones of summer goodbye

and so we look for the warm remembrances
of times spent allowing our skin
to feel the heat of life’s caresses
as we wash the coffee cups
thinking and dreaming
of how warm autumn nights
will turn into the heat
of passion-fuelled winter evenings
where the beat of the butterfly’s kisses
echo ‘neath the stars
echo in the dark
echo to the beat of skin kissing skin

kissing skin

kissing skin

kissing skin …

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