Ghosts of Romance
How the kindred spirits of coffee liqueur flowed,
On a night of warm and dangerous desire,
Snaring motes of stars in emerald eyes,
As the world around caught fire
Below the ruby arc of a sinking Spanish sun,
As it dips into a silver sea
Of crimson tinged waves
Of purest tranquillity
In the sonorous lilt of breezes as they drove
The sounds of bells and taste of salt up from the coast,
Held so close, tight against the stirring breast,
Kissing luscious flesh and ghost,
Tongues infused with the subtlest gentlest tastes,
Sharp alcohol and mint ice,
Of sweetest honey breath,
Of cinnamon and spice.
In a pounding symphony of pulses as they race,
Moments burn and fly in a synchrony of beating,
Prayers for each instant to last forever, wasted,
For each one seemed so fleeting,
Beneath the amber spread of ascendant Spanish sun
As it rose upon the scene,
For to melt us ghosts away
As if we’d never been.
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