The Meadow

I dreamt of a wicked meadow beckoning,
of bashful blooms a rubescent red,
of a silvery sliver moon, 
clothing carelessly strewn,
and wily wildflower, watching ‘round our heads

I dreamt of dewy green, glimmering grass,
of making bed with petal and plume,
of passionate eyes,
carefree, primal cries,
and the plummeting pinnacle untombed

I dreamt of liquid stardust sweltering,
on fevered flesh, as cores collide,
of celestial glow,
bodies shimmering below, 
and shadows refusing to hide

Image credit http://www.wallpaperup.com
Shared as part of Dverse’s Open Mic Night