Drinking Fountain in the Clouds

The yeast on the eastern side of your heart rises and smells as bread.

Your smell rakes the leaves into neat piles of mystification in my mind that is falling.

You brake the silence of caverns deep,

you ripple the water with vibrations of joys to reap.

Blending sounds and careful coos roost in nests of consciousness and contentment.

I see your pale blue dress swirl in the wind of harmony.

Stretching, starry skies reach down before night fall has commenced.

Your caramel skin beams me into the portrait of the present.

Delightful decadence drops from the drinking fountain in the clouds that sprung a small leak.