Solomons Memory
Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth flavored by his best
aged wine pressed from the sweetest of the vineyard grapes.
I close my eyes - my spirit hears my beloved drawing near
strength as the steads of Pharoahs Chariot - soft as a turtledove
Behold it comes leaping upon mountains, skipping upon the hills
As a young stag prancing towards its doe.
His statue as the apple tree among the trees of the woods
As I sit to take my rest in his masculine shade-
his left hand is under my head as his right embraces me.
Outlining my form with the tip of his strong precise finger.
Our lips prepare to seal destiny but, I awaken instead
With only a scent of Lebanons Cedar..
Copyright © Valerie Sherman | Year Posted 2012
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