As I hold you under the stars
And the threads of my jeans threaten
to pop
The fireflies dance in the smoke-drenched air
remains of our smouldering mound
of char

Your sighs say only that
you breathe the same air as I
but I long – I want to take –
I wish – I need to taste
the warm scent
of your moans.

As I pull you closer, closer under the stars
Nearer my thread-strained jeans
And my eyelids blink upon waltzing fireflies
And I inhale the smoke, your sigh, the scent of my
name upon your lips,
says you are mine
at
last