We sat there on the gras
a silver carpet sprayed with sparkling dew
milking light from moon’s pale face
with newborn eyes.
I heard your voice
like a stream of precious coins
attending to be spent
in the darkness of my brain.
Your laughter twirling in mid air
as a school of drunken bats
rained on my skin
leaving silence and silver rays
You took off your glasses
to grow the world
while the black forest of your hair
began to grow inside of me.