Imperitive Poem by Jan Sand
Imperitive
The melody of love
Plays well on flute and violin
Which sculpt in sound
The smooth and round
Of limb and skin,
The glow of eye
And flow of hair
And how the flesh
Feels firm and fair.
The sinuosities of smell
Of musk to stimulate
The machineries of lust;
To immerse the universe
In the clasp of each other
Molding both of us,
As nature demands,
Into a father and a mother.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/23/2024 11:02:29 PM # 1.0.0.1119
