Skin like golden dew
In the midst of a
Shoreditch summer.
Your lips like Milk & Honey,
Let me have a taste of that.

Transfixed with
The way you say my name
With that language
I haven’t heard
Before.

Breakfast in bed.
In the morning
Chet Baker,

Hit play.

And tell me
Soul of mine
How do you do
That thing where you draw
The Art of Happiness
In my mind
With those eyes?