Whisper Your Heart

Shall I come to you in periwinkle dreams
cast in golden slumbers of pre-dawn haze?
Shall I adorn myself for you, a banquet
on mahogany escritoire,
where I write precious memories?

Shall I come to you in golden chariots of midday,
blazing a song of passion and praise?
My heart is a mantle of sturdy oak.
Spread your laurels upon it –
anchor it there in precious metals of pride.

Shall I come to you in azure orbits of night
where passion dreams find eager hearts
burning in fire-cast red? My affection
is a silken sheet, slippery-soft, beckoning.
Wrap yourself in the hope and glory in the rapture.

Whisper your heart and I will place it
beside my pillow, breathe caresses of passion and fire –
of love unceasing. My spirit hopes in eternity.
Awaken to a beacon that shines brightly
in awe of you.

©Rachana Khan 2004


Tempest of the Heart

Standing in twilight splendor,
as burnt umbers and sapphires
fade to glow
struck
by a voiceless call.
The wind sighs your name to me
in carols of innocence
clear as church bells chiming –
an invitation
for one, in particular.

Your words of love --
as the blades of grass --
sway softly before me,
bathing my feet in a blanket
of lush caresses,
moving just out of reach.

Were your sensuous supplications
so real?
Could I reach my hand to you
and know you?

The wind moves
to spirits unknown,
and you are but a tempest
in the meadow of my heart.

©Rachana Khan 2004