For you my LOVE, this flower's heady scent
arises from the depths of Aetna Park,
the berry, filled with DEW until it's spent
likes caves and moist environs of the dark.
I'd be the first and only chef de jour
to taste the texture with an eager tongue
the subtle touch so reminiscent of velour
the sound of harpsichords and songs just sung.
May Nature bless you with her kindness now
pink flesh enriched and swollen with soft pride
I do not mind the posture nor the bow
recalling Doctor's orders, Open Wide.
Lest some consider frankness like incense
it burns and masks reality as such,
go hike my boy and find your diffidence....
meanwhile, the world will change just through her touch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem