Silent Night

Silence is silver;
alone in our trance
under the night canopy
the solemn breeze
brushes sweating pores,
not even a light rustle.
The twinkling stars parade
their silent march shuffles on
brailling a heavenly requiem
as the magnetic moon draws
the tides to the listless shore,
so it pulls our bodies closer together,
but the electric pulses don't charge
our sensory poles

Beneath the sky's, blurry lens
our still life portrait develops
on a protruding balcony.
Seated at a table for two
two silhouettes in the candle light
sharing the tranquil night rhythms.
Our glass table an iridescent bowl,
earthy tones sparkle in the after glow.
My lover's blond locks set ablaze
and her powdered neck shimmers;
the frothy beads of our untouched lattes
an illuminated strand of pearls.
The city lights flicker in the distance;
the lampshades on our eyes are drawn.
Silence is golden