Birds of Midsummer
Birds of Midsummer
My heart never tires with you in that space
My lips cannot wait for kisses to place
A tongue wagging leaf, with flowers in bloom,
that lavish, desert naught need of a spoon.
To cherish a body with syrup and pollen
like birds of Midsummer feeding in season.
I have to confess, I don’t see a reason,
to wait for a challenge, a moment in quiet
a meeting in silent, of passionate climate
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