bending close with the candle and mirror I can see my work in the glow of her skin and beeswax. in the dark hours of the evening I carve out my name in ink and pen nib, black and blue.
creation is in the small hours and darling I can read my work in the glow of your skin and candle. in the grey fog hours of the morning I can trace the calligraphy of our honeyed skin and the quivers of your breath.