Drowse, sink, escape
Until free to sleep
There you will fall deep
In love while the nape
Of your neck and the shape
Of it is softened by touching with a sweep
Of my pressing lips that creep
Towards yours. There your hair will drape;
Fold with light
As the lamp finds your face
And the fire finds the night
To where the moon finds its space;
There the desire to kiss will reach its height
And fade and leave without a trace.

©Jack Aylward