The hands are clean but the soul sullied
Six months, seven days and fourteen hours since
Musk and rose petals in the sweetest air
The touch and taste of warm flesh
Lingering warmth of the long embrace
Train of fire from those fingertips
Blood red and clasped between softest hands
Hint of spice-wood and cinnamon
The uncut diamond that never sparkles
Illuminates the world from the heart within
The secret chord that no one hears
Caresses like the finest champagne
Golden streamers from amber prison
Fixed eternal for the march of time
Two years, four months and sixteen days
Washed away but still remains
The slightest taste of saffron and thyme
Chocolate silk on the tip of your tongue
Enticing, captivating, the fleeting memory
Days in the summer sunshine
Dragonflies upon the sunflower sea
Tale of love in minor key
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