14.02.2015 Poem


By Adama Bukari
14.02.2015 LISTEN

Basil leave
Is your smell
Thyme is on your bed
And the rhythm of your cleavage
Beds me

Your stem
Grafts my scion
In your thighs;
I'm bought

From your contours
A harbinger of delight
Baths me;
I'm drenched

If time knew time
I would plead a pause
And resume when time is no more

My fountain
Melts in your lake
Is the sound of our lips

You're the immortal stem
On which
I graft my scion

Our deed;
Is immortal!

Adama Bukari
03:00 CET
Somewhere in Europe

Happy Valentine's Day to YOU in particular.

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