The Midnight Love Between the Angels

The winter's breath is propelling through your hair.

Motionless we sit and stare and hold each other under the chalice moon.

Frozen in time, the snow flakes stand still.

Grab my hand and pull, were lopping and laughing under the street lights glare.

The park bench is ecstatically warm with you there.

The night progresses and the temperature falls, I whistle our song and you return the call.

I put my hand around your waist; I take a dive, your lips I taste.

The terrain is blanketed by our love; there is no sign of loam.

Eyes toward the north we've found our way home.

Please take us God before we corrupt, Grasp your beings and make it abrupt.

The blistering sun flickers off the newly born crystals.

Our heart is melting; softly pouring its spirit into writing a series of love epistles.

Luminously light leaps off of your crystals, longing for its equal.

When angels flutter down from the heavens next frost,
I promise we'll meet affectionately to write the sequel.