Hunk of the night...

With the rustle of wind,
She seeks a feminine glance,
With locks that define his face,
With the arrival of the night the clocks seem to be too dazed to advance....

He sings his soulful melody,
Did he wait for the night?
Or did the night wait for him?
The hunk of delight...

The sprinkle of sugar on the snow,
A prospect of life to ponder,
A sweet savour for the bitter,
In all its dreams of wonder...

Pristine to its hearts content,
A reverie that doubts this holy land,
The dale of dreams of lost existence,
His melodies embraced him in the warmth for the cold he had to withstand...

To be rebound when lost,
Illusions of intoxication,
Beyond physical harmony,
These bells of creation...

I love Jim Morrison and I choose to dedicate this poem to him...