831. Let me but wander where the silken line

SONNET 831
By JH Sayyar
Let me but wander where the silken line
Of your slim, tender waist begins to sway
A subtle curve more artful than design,
Where breath and beauty dance and play.
No marble sculptor dreamed of such a grace,
No painter caught it in a living hue;
It moves with moonlight’s morning’s pace,
A whisper wrapped in skin, forever new.
I do not seek to chain or to possess,
But only to adore, to touch, to learn—
The poetry that hides in each caress,
The fire that in your quiet form does burn

So let me trace, with awe and not with haste,
The sacred temple of your tender waist