we will have beds which exhale odours soft,

we will have divans profound as the tomb,

and delicate plants on the ledges aloft,

which under the bluest of skies for us bloom.

exhausting our hearts to their last desires,

they both shall be like unto two glowing coals,

reflecting the twofold light of their fires

across the twin mirrors of our two souls.

one evening of mystical azure skies,

we'll exchange but one single lightning flash,

just like a long sob—replete with good byes.

and later an angel shall joyously pass

through the half-open doors, to replenish and wash

the torches expired, and the tarnished glass.