A Poem A Day, Poem #4

your voice is a sound caught by child
fingers clutching the lights of fireflies
on summer nights where boundless worlds
reach tiny arms toward the universes of
your speaking
and the stars don't shine like they used to
when you were tired and yawn-sending
like blowing a dream to the places inside
me i hide where whispering means something
slower than sex but stands as still as a finer
rhythm coming unhinged like a door opening
to let all the light out of your mouth for twilight
kisses
but we try to fly our wings farther than
breathing when in the deeper water of
soundless sleeping where boundaries
release, finger by tiny finger, separate
bodies, flesh reaching into flesh for a
house full of dreams and summer
singing like the birds waking up whistling
new kisses, warming up playthings