Like the quiver
Of a cat whisker
It shudders subtly
The feeling of remoteness
Forgotten bewilderment
Caring even less about
A remaining balance
Like sucking clean the fingers
From the sweetest hand fed meal
Delicate in taste
The most sacred piece of cake
Or an insatiable appetite
Uncovered by a lovesick fool
Naked running through the forest
Would you have me then
Would you hold my head
Would you caress my feet
And when would you premier
Before me dancing first
In your best circle of flowers
Picked out by the wind and scattered
About amongst the branches
Aligning twigs into a bed
To make love with me in
After brunch
© GÄ
Poétique 