I don’t know what’s real or not

I don’t know what’s real or notI know it’s realwhen you ate that orange with sheer delightand licked your lipswhen there’s a far-off tone to your voicewhen I heard your breath during sunrise It may be unrealwhen you dissipate from thoughts like the shifting of sandswhen you’re not who I want to hold hands withas

Orange flood of light

Back in the time of Vishvamitra, Making love under the sunlight Your hand on my hand And an orange flood of light Warm hues in the sky, earth, and the seas Yellow mellow scents; orange blossoms and a crowd of marigolds A joining together type of feeling A trusting zen-like breathing  

This makes me happy

The smell of maple leaf

Somewhere on a horizon

It’s somewhere in between the orange and the blue hues of a sunset, somewhere in the horizon where the sky meets the ocean I don’t even recall who you are nor which one but your voice holds me, unclothes me, caresses, kisses and spins me, as we dance in the shower of raining orange flowers