The bosoms of swollen meadows
drizzles
in the coffee of your eyes.
creamy and brimful,
a touch of sweetness,
the reminiscence
of the floriferous mountain hives,
feverish
like your passion for life,
sweaty, easeful and restive
like a summer bed,
inflamed by passion
alleviated
by penetrant breeze,
like the tender touch of delectable bites
sweet and bitter caressing my palate
endearing my sensibility,
like the well of wood
in the savour of your iris,
like the whisper of your breath
climbing the ladder of the darkness,
like the howl of pleasure
through the crescent of your teeth
in the cup of my night,
in my cup
all night.
