The Cave

We are in a cave beside the fire. The acorns of the forest shed their skins over the flame. The smell of hot pinewood winds through the air. The snakes and scorpions have gone away. We are close to each other, in the shelter of the hearth we lit with stubbornness. Your hand — a comb — wanders through the curls of my tangled hair. And your gaze — a torch — shines on my body, slips from the mouth of my passage into my obscure interior. We twine around each other like the air and the scent of pine. Close, closer: on the stone wall, look: the shadows of two naked ones, two full springs, pour into each other, bright, brighter...