Flipping Grins

As gentle sounds of cool existence slip
quiet visions: coloured from sleep's stretched yawn,
I flutter poetry's wings across thought;
spiral shimmered words in the mind's fast eye.
Smoke scents this freedom that's caressed with love,
billows of pleasure which spin artwork's face,
brush-stroked by my laughter's imaginings,
such wonderful emotions blend into
atmosphere's light-rippled fascination.

Darker motion will be present in time,
but for now the day's chase has just begun,
I'll catch breath and spill ink with beautiful
easy fluid fingers; cracked by my sigh
of anticipation that's whipped towards
a frenzy; black and white insanity.
Tomorrow perhaps will be caught hold of,
today though, she's flipping grins behind her.