How does the caress of your tongue,
when you speak words of utter wan,
so desirous your claim is to breath,
give warmest dance in your mouth,
that, in earnest, e’en roses hear you?
What breezes taste your whisper,
that throated reach of your yearn,
when your eyes scream in ardor,
and the deep swell of your breath
lends flame to the fire of your sigh?
Does air find soothe on your lips,
that it breathes your softest kiss,
and does the wealth of all beauty
rest solely in the words you speak,
that, in revelation, love is defined?