A tongue stilled by fear,
wrapped tight, like a noose.
His eyes like coffee and sunshine,
hair like earth, dark and disheveled.
When he speaks, she hears the rustling
of paper with rough edges.
Only the whispered embrace,
light as a feather, heavy as marble.
A fleeting chance to speak with burning affection,
but fears of the flame kept her silent.
Now he sets pen to paper, Love
flowing like hot water to bath.
Words of moonlight, bathing him
in a silver halo.
Words for another, a night haired
exotic beauty, the two women night and day.
And so her pupils were two
lonely islands, surrounded by water.