she worships the sun.
I held her
in the palms of my hands
tanned and voluptuous
trickling from my fingertips.
she melted against
my shivering nakedness
until my every pore screamed for her.
I should have guessed
that she would never be mine
but it was too too tempting
the glorious blue sky
and her majestic wings of wax.

Paul David Mena
3 May, 1997
Waltham, MA

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