Reflection

A paint brush meets a fruitful pen,
after climax female loses some feathers,
His ink dry, male leaves,
a spark springs from life's crib,
squeals of joy accompany my loneliness
and turns into bliss.
I cherish it like a prize,
in this cradle i grant all my dreams,
in this cradle i supply my needs,
at the moment
where i feel my limbs weaken with all his heart,
this feverish human being comes
and lights a torch of hope.