Driven at the mirth of your leaves,
Falling at the same space to your feet.
Creeping to the tears that left
Their stains, to discover you bleed
Beneath pale moonlight, at sceneries wept
To the fog that surrounds your form
Able for hands to lift.
While grace would grant you steps,
Each petal, each rose scattered around you
Bends a nose to the complimenting dew –
Bends a face, at submission to nothing higher
Than the eyes, to breasts, with life to sire.
Great neck that stretches with the springtime growth,
Fold yourself to the hand before you.
A waist I would brighten at the heat,
Filling the east with the west
Flooding starvation at all crests.
We are aware to the smiles we read –
Connecting all the wires,
Stretching our eyes to the sun, when mired
In the lust that sinks our glances through
Without remembering the fire.
Smothered in the glare from a prolonged fever,
Dreaming in the stagnant terror
To everything that never came nearer.