Scented Island Mystery - Carry on Tuesday #31

My hands...
open the curtains of your being
My eyes...
drink in the softness of your seeing

Storm casts shadows on your wall
crescendo builds as tremors fall

My head...
spins in island scented mystery
My heart...
aches in solitude's aimless destiny

Darkness warms with coming light
washes shadows from hazed sight

My hands...
close the curtains of our being

Fresh Cut Broom - 3WW ClXVII (Grave, Lithe, Offend)

And the litheness of her body
helps lift her to the heavens
transcends her earthly binding
as the grave of life offends

The scent of earthly rigor
hangs deep within her mind
and stretches past the flicker
of bonfires left behind

Stranded on sullen highway
with sunburst fired chalice
there's no place left to stray
she scorched the propped-up palace

While tracing stardust questions
the sisters cross the room
and stare at frozen memories
in the straw of fresh cut broom