.
In a bed
Of flowers
We make love.
Your freed lips
Are the colour
Of heat, wildness
As they enclose
In the bare outer
Gardens, untamed,
Clearings in a wood
And the tongued tangles
Of your unmiring hair
Are the very fragrances
Of innocence
And bloom.

Under the shy stars
We swim in a meadow
Of touch and dream,
Our eyes flickering
Like those sky jewels
Set in balm of heavens,
The night covering
All that we desire,
Flesh and home,
Glittering,
Are one.