serpentine

I sense her as she gently slips between the sheets;
While I slide along those sacred lines of near sleep,
To then rest within twilights gossamer tainted dream.
And here I smile, for in her arms, I am so self-defined,
Free from the curses of blind, foolish and cruel guides;
Who hide within the corners of my closing muddled mind.
In silent places, she comes and goes in slow staged days;
To beg a whisper from a plump heart so dear and aged.
And while we walk in secret scented high landscapes,
Made of honey milk and red blossom, counter-changed
Where I beg a gentle touch, or the merest taste of grape,
And laugh heavily at this our so secret place out of time,
Here, along the honoured banks of the golden serpentine.

for Des who is a million miles away, yet in my heart entwined.