We dined all night on a feast of words,
drank deeply of vowels 'til our lips were crimson,
discovered concertos in the quietest of whispers,
feasted in a sweat lodge of hopes and dreams.
It was a night of visions, first halved, then doubled,
and a language slowly dissolved,
for love is simple, love is wise,
and love needs only simple words, and sighs.
© niall oconnor 2015