I came to your idle gesture, soft
your beck, expecting the frivolous
But when I touched your purple felt
a spark engulfed a fabric mesh; yes
for this you embraced my lust, and
I felt more than a beating heart:
a naked dreamscape of us
escaping the hints of sorrow
a flirty flight into fantasy skies that
we had booked on Heaven’s airline with
early reserved feather tickets, the tickles of the past.
Running along the forested path until
we could take off like Gooney birds,
a little awkward, but free in flight, yes, we
launched to fly as easily as dreams are
made of purple felt, felt.