The note rises soft and sweet
my pulse performs a triple beat,
shivers racing through my spine,
angelic fingers close to mine.
With subtle grace and purity
still she presses close to me,
her face a mask of freshness pure:
coy and catlike; soft, demure.
I stand mute beside this one,
even after the song is done.
Her soul emits a peaceful tone
from every fiber, every bone.
Eyes closed in rapturous delight
her lips trembling ever so slight,
hands leave their resting place.
I stare into angelic face.
A final song, the place empty,
this angel turns her face to me
and hand-in-hand we take our leave,
and I once more in love believe.
Alicat the persnikitty
As I sit here dimly thinking
Watching modem lights a-blinking
Churning out poetic hash.
Lord, in all Your piety,
Help me keep my sanity:
Please don't let the modem crash! --Alicat