First Taste

Such strange dessert has claimed this chair
It sweetens the season with feathered care
Sweeps so long, my palate claims
As glances lay heavy as maidens' names

Rhythms retire to winded retreats
Words clutter closely like steps through the streets
Breath becomes haunted, steaming anew
Stories so scattered test trivialities true

Touches race near round flesh and face
Measured to frame such muted space
Laid naked, bared open by pointed stare
Free to be artful, kept burning there

Many a mayhem has brightened these days
Too few to claim these diluted displays
Risks shall be garnered, wagered in wit
Foolish by design, so perfectly fit