She makes love like a wolf. The evening broke with feathers in my hair as the waterline receded. The day may be full of salty waves but the night is spent drifting through the fire. And we must stay quiet for the world is going off to bed, visions of lovers like us are nothing but dreams in their head.
The eve breaks, welcome to September, where everything turns gold, skin burns like a fire and smells like a rose. She has a dark sigh. Speeding across my wood floor, playing dressing up, we need not the sun to keep the fireplace burning. Midnight tastes like honey from an afternoon hive. We work away the day and play in the night. Oh where could we be,
she turns the hours into days.