I am stained by the colors dripping from your wand,
I am devoted to the spasms of love
The words pouring through your fingers
The laughter is loud from the opulence of your face
Talk to me about the parables of the mist,
and wonder why the moth is drawn to the flickering streetlights
when it never flys towards the moon.
We sing in gestures of inducement,
a flock in a trance in the smile of the honeycomb of the indictments of the sun
Listening to the blades cooling the air
Our smiles are ready to be plucked from the bountiful sunflowers
Traces of our hymn are found in the handwriting of lovers notes
We succumb to the spells of the infatuation of the kaleidoscope of the light dancing and flickering
I am the canvas of your love.
Nkateko Tshabalala is a self published author of Poetic Flair.