Bron-Yr-Aur

Velvet mornings weeping and
whining behind the curtains
Peeling off cloths until nothing
But the skin remains
Untouched and blaphemous
Like an amulet, shining under rays
Of bright white light
It feels like
Sitting in a meadow
Summer nights, and a breeze of 
Cool sunlight
And sipping from the corner of the lips
Red wine, 
Endless bottles of it, 
Until it consumes this awful
Feeling
That crashes the spine