12 TO 6

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 Lovers of the dark, creepy night

From nigh they sense each other
Out of the vague, unpleasant
world.
With the ripped old jean
Squishing the air out of the bum
They wallow under the cold moon.
Neglecting their sole
responsibilities
With showers of kisses and
champagne
The night blooms like rose petals.
12 to 6 in the silence of deep
romance
Nothing escapes their escapades
With emotions like a fountain.
Heart bursting laughter erupts
Jokes of two yawning lovers
Coated with mild caressing of the
lips.
The sun is their only enemy
The gaze that punches through
Parts the clouds piece by piece.
written by Tokede Daniel
danatoks@gmail.com