So I expect a state like stone;
But I touch texture unworldly -
Precious as if it were only on loan.
You speak with a sparkle,
Rippling with rhythms so strange;
My ears can hear your soft songs
And I revel in reading your range.
You veer into my vision
And I see your beauty so clearly;
Yet my feeble old eyes must blink
To take in your splendour so nearly.
You come to me so fragrant
With a perfume like pleasant patchouli;
And I swoon to its enchantment
Lost in a lair so wild and unruly.
You always draw my famished mouth
To a precocious point where I can savour
Luxurious lips and petal-scaped skin
Rewarding my love, my lust and favour.