By JH Sayyar
Your kiss is sweeter more than honey dew,
That drips at dawn from petals kissed by light;
No summer fruit, nor rose in morning hue,
Could match the bliss your lips bring in night.
Soft as the sigh of winds through willow trees,
Yet fierce enough to set my poor soul aflame—
It dances on my breath like perfumed breeze,
And carves upon my heart your whispered name
In dreams I seek that taste, that touch, that thrill,
More richer than wine or spices of the east;
It lingers still, though time may bend its will,
And makes of every moment love's own feast
O kiss, divine, from lips so do gently pressed—
You are my joy, my hunger, and my night rest.
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