'We are the music makers
and we are the dreamers of dreams'
We drown our magic in wine that we fetched from the red rivers of our hearts. We run out like children of the forest, barefoot, running to grab the hidden moon. The trees are tall and bare, Mother is silent and resting till she is beautiful again. We dance, to music that keeps our backs straight and our heads fall off, unscrewed. Man invades us with his roads and parks.
Your lips are wet clay under my fingertips, I water them with my tongue, caress them into the shape I want them to be. You hold your elbows close to your body, I button up your sleeves so you don't feel threatened by me. We sit on a sinking sofa, and watch the moon go in and out of Nature.