The softness of your hands is formed from night
Where fingers weave and skin meets skin; delight.
We sail the dragon, sieve silver from the stars.
My love, embrace the dark, please hold me tight.
Tonight we write Rubai stanza with Frank at dVerse. My choice has been to write in a form close the Fitzgerald’s interpretation of Omar Khayyam. But we have some freedom to choose our own way.
In my quest for 30 poems in April I’m now at 23.
April 26, 2018