My darling, I have a request.
Would you mind if I held you and pressed
both my lips and my face
to your secretive place
while my hands are at rest on your breasts?
And carressing, each nipple will rise,
an expected and welcome surprise.
Ah, bonjour, le lavage
c'est pour moi, mon visage!
New dimensions may soon alter size.
Disentangled, we're sensing a tide
in a hurried ascent you're astride.
As we catch the next wave
sweeping into the cave
to the end of the velvet inside.
Liquid tears without salt we become,
in a storm where the mind must go numb.
As the poetry flows
as it fills you with prose,
we hold hands with each other and hum.
Is there something this life can provide
that would have you or me satisfied?
As they chase after gold
our happy hands hold
better jewels by far and by wide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.