The music spins
if but to see
in the sugar and the
salt the primeval
lasso
thinness
of the tie
 between good and evil. 

For if we go, 
as one sentient being,
the two to free 
the hug of the red dress, 
in the strong
body of your memory,
we shall be living, 
a bouy anchored in the joy,
encouraged by the eyes
in the vein of our song
strung to the tug of your lashes
where there is no
 turn not lifted by
the light from the sky. 

You are the reason, 
 we are made pure, 
forged by the force
of the sun,
 held close in the nurture,
  the mother source,
that has taught us desire. 

Yes I see, 
 as  you dream, 
our song
is sung by the trance 
of the strum
that holds the
 hum of romance, 
 made strong
as we dance. 

To me you give 
  ease from my agony.
the sky has spun
  the reason,
for which I live.

You are the air,
 a haunting melody.
Your graceful symphony,
caught close to the nape of your hair,
 in step we share.