Red drips

You come, roar and then your paws dance away after gazelle fantasies.

Drips of melted red roses run down through the mouth spines like love consumed into ecstasy.

The savanna breathes the scary calm of wild desires as if waiting patiently for the next dance.

When the wind combs the dry grass, I will raise my hand and wave, so my soul can get tinted by the rose drip again.