Sensate Poem by Asset Balin

fold it there (my dear,)
a hundredfold
if you may
(for someday we may be,
the same burly bunyan tree)
in a certain pot in your memory

with me - - - the light
(of day had long been hazy,
misty- metallically awry)
ne'er did blend with any dove
agile enough to infuse- a love
strange to hate and lethargy.

feel me there (my dear
amongst the dropping leaves- -
brown and red, with the cascades
of the swirling threads and gales)
just like the days you hear
the voice of my swarthy skin.