Sweet Surrender Poem by James McLain

Soft as the dusk on quiet skin,
A whisper stirs the waiting air,
A shiver deep, a breath drawn in—
A touch too fierce, too sweet to bear.

The autumn wind, it bends the trees,
Yet finds no root that shuns its call,
And I, like leaves upon the breeze,
Yield wholly, gladly, to the fall.

No chains but these: the want, the will,
The heat that lingers, slow and deep—
A flood that bends, yet breaks me still,
A tide that wakes what once must sleep.

Oh, let me drift, undone, set free,
Like moonlight on an open sea.