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
Sizzle;
Is the sound of our lips
Amor
You're the immortal stem
On which
I graft my scion
Our deed;
Is immortal!
Adama Bukari
03:00 CET
14/02/2015
Somewhere in Europe
Happy Valentine's Day to YOU in particular.
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