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utopia, seen from a hillside
progressive thoughts
thru pleasure and pain
the dreams race
across my wild plains
imagery is ghostly
make believe times
I think of you
he and she
together as one
on the hill
away from it all
about to fall
only to be caught
by the hand
hand of love
no separations allowed
no intruders
no darkness
only cool breezes flow
thru your hair
and thru thy eyes
with the intensity of admiration
with the intensity of touch
a skin tone
a lip tongue
a suckle
reach out and touch it
feel the breeze
above the hill
high above
fall with me
into the pit
the pit of utopia

 1997 David Greg Harth