IBIZA ODE

yet to become one with dusk
she gently rolls over on her left hip
a series of isolated
sometimes critical thoughts beam through her dove mind
to some she lies and lets pass
lest they become reality
she knows only fantasy to dream

from dusk till dawn an insatiable appetite of love becomes her
she nestles in a bountiful grove
as thoughts elude and romance overcomes

a dream is a dream only if you so believe