Most sublime, the art of love is,
the inner worlds, it keeps churning.
At her I take a hard look; at once
I fully realize this,her lips tremble
like the fecund earth, awaiting seeds!
Eyes acquire a misty morn quality
that to her tell aloud "Look at him!
he is the one you had seen in a dream
and swooned, pained not knowing
where to find him,out side the dream"
That meta text's context quickly get
transferred, to my database of smells
warmth and endearing sounds,pout
of lips conveying multiple meanings;
my search runs exactly three seconds,
decides to cue her on the result,still not
open, an enigma it remains,but she gets it.
A twitch starts at that exact moment,
somewhere deep, that's all I can tell,
in us both it resonates, deep, till we shake
uncontrollably like two leaves in a blizzard!
Her feet wear, two shoes made of wind,
and mine try to match their frenzied speed,
in course, rush , collide in a mid air embrace.
Two pairs of hungry lips, now need no words,
to see what just spontaneously, did happen
at nature's own, sweet, free, will, ethereal!
