Taj Mahal, 1962.
The image of your face runs through my veins
Your eyes, hazel and bright, burnt in my mind
I pray for you to glance upon me and bless me
With your divine smile, your illuminance.
Your flesh, brown as caramel, pressed against mine,
As we dance naked under the moonlight,
Our lips and our limbs
Intertwined within each other;
Your snake slithering through my garden.
My fingers slip through your afro
As you twirl your fingers around my black tresses,
Your hand on my bosom,
O come gently caress me
To make the stars fold in the sky
And a new supernova is born.
