The morning gives wake to newborn Flame.

The scent of burning embers travel through nostrils.

It is daybreak for a Dragon bringing betrayal to slumber.

Rays of sunlight usher in golden blessing to his eyes.

He climbs a circular stairwell accompanied by a conga rhythm.

Made from dark wood from schools of old.

The female form waits patiently at the midway point.

Seeking toll and giving advice.
 
He stares at the sexy on the stairway.

Sexy-in-the-stairwell

“Your heart is filled with pain” she says,

“The pressure had forged a bleu diamond”

“Your debt to me is paid with your sparkle”

“Keep it sexy, keep it balanced,

Keep it clever, make it challenge”

“Never bite your tongue when someone sexy can do it for you”

They shared a mental kiss as she let him pass.

His mind now wet with the syrup of peaches.

The word “inspire” tattooed to her bosom.

Close enough to touch but she and the Dragon do not.

Onward and upward the dragon flies skimming the surface of the stairwell.

To the attic where the love of language and connection reside.

Pulling poetic children from its womb.

They take baby steps in his subconscious.

Cascading down the stairwell back to his room where his heart resides.

Reptilian fingers now busy with word play.
 
Imagining the taste of the sexy on the stairway.

 

Graffiti Bleu