Over The Moon
He curls his lithe frame around mine.
All arms and legs, a fluttering heart
As a little bird’s, frightened but brave.
I kiss him, he tastes like oranges,
fresh strawberries, and courage.
I smile the sun into his green eyes,
Braid starlight in his curls, lick salt
From his skin, the shore our bed,
Lapping waves our spectators,
Soaking us until he curves his back
In roaring bliss. I carry him
Over the moon into the sun.
***
April 5, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
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