Lips, Dandelion Clocks and Wishes

The weather is beautiful. So is life.... It's cool enough to confuse Spring and Fall. I love it.. I got my mojo back... at least I believe I have. Let me know what you think....


Dandelion Clocks (for Peony)

I aspire to be the thoughtful wetness
glistening atop your luscious lips.
There I'd breath, live and die.
Forever,
tasting each and every word spoken.
Every utterance
and ponderance,
ruminating inside your comely façade.
I don't want to be you,
or be with you.
I don't long to be your lover,
or someone to whisk you
away from the mundanely chaotic calm
you call life.
I just want to tell the time
by the light in your eyes,
make a wish,
breath
and taste
the idea of you.
Allow it to marinate, simmer,
burn in my mind;
or, like a fine wine,
allow it to swirl in my mouth
and tease my palette.
I want to discern the curious complexities
and savor the fruitful flavor.
The randomness of it all,
watching you, as life
blushes in your direction.
Coloring shadows
giving them light,
so that darkness never surrounds you.
Even in the midst of your darkest hour;
the moon succumbs to your seduction,
and rivals the glory of the sun.
Chasing away the doubt,
lurking in your distance.
Unbeknownst to you,
I find strength
in your unassuming presence.
Whisper me across rooms
so that I may touch
others as you have touched me.
A gentle sweetness mirroring
the bitterness of my weakness.
Imperfectly reminding me of days past...
No seduction, only imagination.
No exploration, only appreciation.
My heart's intention is innocent...
it flows like hot summer breeze
from childhood past times...
We'd know the time, by the number of breaths..
Three breaths, at three o'clock.
Pursed lips blowing dandelion clocks
carrying three wishes.
Carrying you.
Carrying me.
And the simple nakedness of our desires.
Stripped of inhibitions that
blind and bind
us to rules that never,
that never need anything more
than a hint of a reason
to be broken.
Let me be that reason.
Let me be the one.
Let me be that thoughtful wetness
glistening atop your luscious lips.
There I'd breathe, live and die,
waiting for nothing more than
your very next word or wish.

kdtaylor, 2006
section 8 coffee publishing
all rights reserved