Tiny dust motes dance the air
as we lean on shafts of sunlight.
Beneath lyrical whisperings
stir deep subliminal sex hymns,
fluidity of limbs lifting us
repeatedly to the surface.
Here, intertwining for a while,
before fear of falling pulls us
back into our haven of verse.
Do we dare commune my love,
knowing we may be forced to
relearn solitude once again?