It feels as if the Gem is moving Her free will journey
Inhaling Time
While we coccoon
Waiting
Wingless
Inside
~
Suds from lots of bubble pipes
Rain generously
On her screens
Thankfully
The wipers are carefully tubed
In fine sheaths of white plastic
Suds
Fanning
A foamy breeze
Bathe the Gem
In magic waves
Of milk
And then
The deep whirring roar
As rolling
Parralel
Brushes
Softly savage
Softly ravage
Her body and soul
No respectable
Newly tuned child
Is worth a new sunrise
Without
A thorough
Deep
Wash
The brushes return
And return
And return
Mowing down
All stray suds
With a friendly burst
Of clean ocean
And then
The slow glaze
Of drying heat
Like ebbing and flowing tides
Of baby comfort
For just a moment
There is
A sigh
As the brushes
Slowly fold
And the bathing heat
Hangs heavy
In humid
Sensual
Bliss
The screen tells a new story now
A crystal, two-way mirror
Believing
The air
Is clear
Etched in fresh shapes
And pulsing colours
But Time is calling
A red
Lonely light
To the side
Becomes green
Exhaling Time
Turn
The Gem
Over...
~~~~~~
Posted on "The Poetry Showcase" under AuraGem
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