the saxophone's song

as the dewdrops trickle down,

down

a lean,

white,

hourglass frame

my knees stood to clasp

half of the entirety of these red rose petals.

then my lips reaches

for a nave,

to blow a kiss

of glacial flame.

a pair of grain collides

to the soothing rhythm of instrumentals.

the scent suffuses ­­­­­­---

covering

even the ceiling’s wooden frames.

our sighs slide in our skin

even ebbing to the calm ear of the air.

lying motionless

conveys an intrinsic warmth;

a divine art of arts.

we smiled

and closed

our eyes

.