The Kiss

The kiss her lips had kissed many a man a butterfly Fragrant and vivid like a spring day in May Yet not to the point of pollination. She waited for a kiss that tasted of wealth She dreamed of a castle and ballgown if silk Sailing down the river on a boat made Of a swans’ feather sewn by silky threads. She met him and when they embraced, It was as wonderous as when earth and Heaven became one and nothing counted At last fertilisation and deep was their love. At dawn she awoke he had gone, Nine a month later she gave birth to a golden son, Her lover is a poet living inside his dream.