What dreams have we unfolded to grace the evening stars
with purple light's divine and blinding magic?
What kisses have we burned between our lips' tender skins
and gazed at butterflies ascending into rubyfire?
I would follow you, my love, into Paris set aflame,
Louvre masterpieces glowing golden madness of your passion,
to mysteries of Rumi's bones still whirling
to secret beauties in Nefertiti's tomb.
Oh, how we'd tango to naked joy
along the breadth of China's wall
into sprawling Hong Kong markets,
do a rumba, never slumber through Rio's nights hot Carnivale,
if we'd but kiss each other longer and between these dreams,
embrace it all.