I've dreamed no dream of you that won't come true.
Though seeming to sleep, my joy swoons, awake!
"To sleep" does not mean "to dream" - - better : take
two close-lain symbols: us, blent through and through.
My glance, your touch combined in Love's embrace.
This heat is more than blush; it's Ardor's bloom.
Our eyes fill each with each like air this room.
Two bodies, part-for-part ignited with grace.
You paint; your art is us sharing total bliss.
For truest Love -- delayed -- is not Love denied.
We share on Eros's and Aphrodite's couch,
frail male's devoutest wish: to find and touch
the moist pallet of his artist-heiress, Eden's seed.
Life's easel holds the full canvas of Joy complete in this.
