Friday, March 30, 2007

#341: March 30, 2007

I'd never felt the warm air on my skin
before, and all the mysteries of light
were closed to me, a world of black and white
in which I shivered, colorblind and thin;

I'd never even known what sweetness meant
before, and honey struck my senses bland
as watered milk; sugar transformed to sand
and nature's nectars all for me were spent;

Until I tasted you, and dipped my tongue
into the honey of your lips, that flowed
in golden waves over and in between
the join of mouth and mind--till your face showed
the color of the sun when it was young,
azured the sky, and turned the meadows green.

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