when mountains make love
we come upon the wind
lifting our souls above the sea
spirits to the coastal range
with mythic joy and love of land
in these dying days of pan

when music makes love
we come with elfin eyes
and play our hands upon
these frets we fantasize
we do not break the lute upon
but listen long to our sweet song

when magic makes love
out of mist
hardly seeming there
only to our senses
do we come
to know us here

when we make love

© sylvi & see through publishing november 1995

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