A graceful dream, a warm-wind night
—the hour I knew I loved you.
Soul-consuming, mythical fervor
two hearts dancing in Camelot.
Distant music—friends celebrating
balmy darkness, sweltering essence
of you—larger than life in steaming
shadow of a lantern’s light.
“I love you,” whispered in my ear
—your flaming eyes pierce into mine,
baronial blanket beneath us, igneous kisses
smells of fire and wine, held so tight
mind-sweating frenzy—so alive!
Perfect words like embers, etching
our future together, impassioned
sizzling struggle—desire and risk,
your words absolute, my need to believe.
Your torrid skin, hot breath on my neck,
your febrile aching mixed with mine
unfolding destiny—infinite love
suspended in white-hot blaze.
I melt into complete surrender
calescent power of our union
held in the sultry moment
mesmerized, thrilled, fulfilled
—a night’s dream come true.
Daybreak’s chilling silence,
frigid air, your icy words disjoin—
embarrassed, shamed, martyred.
Like Guinevere and Sir Lancelot’s
forbidden and pernicious love,
sadness of a love born still.
Empty, craven, ravaged, spent
no strength, no warmth, no future
innocence lost, idealism gone.
—Reflection illuminates the night
adorned by your searing charms,
feverous passion, scorched dreams
and I feel the fall of Camelot.