Building a campfire, takes some knack
Of arranging wood, not in a stack,
But carefully building your little pile.
Take kindling and make a teepee,
A little paper, crumpled into a ball,
Touch with a match and in awhile
Flames will flicker, driving away the dark.
Golden skin rippling
like the waters of the Nile.
Snowy, white teeth, reflecting
threads of light from your smile.
Milk chocolate eyes, blinding,
those who dare to pause.
Lilting laughter, falling
gently about my ears
for no reason. Just because