Moon Shadows

Moon Shadows

My heart toys with the mystery;
Of ‘if’ or ‘could have been’,
while gorging on the history,
refusing yet to wean.

The sweetly suckled wonderment,
a taste of dreams fulfilled;
the universal sentiment,
was planted, grown and tilled.

And as I lie beneath the leaves,
of Autumn’s rustic dress,
alone, my soul within me grieves
for my love’s soft caress.

Waking as moon shadows play,
[and tease my lonely mind]
upon the sheets, where once we lay,
our bodies all entwined.

Oh, I would have you here again
and gasping, taste your lips,
or gently move, if you should deign,
between your arching hips.

Chris Birrane © 2011