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Perhaps a string of kisses would drape
The tender nape
Of your stretching neck
Framed within
An auburn pillow;
Perhaps we could turn to yellow
In this crystal sunrise,
A golden nest around our bed
Praising the wisdom
Of our slumber;
Perhaps the world will thunder
To arouse
This pellucid girl and boy;
Caught adrift their morning love:
The deep embrace of each other;
Perhaps they could be lovers.
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Poetry is always a sensory experience--you want to feel it when you hear it, experience it. So I love this for the pleasure it brought me. And the word "perhaps" lends it tension, keeps it balancing on the edge of possibility. Lovely.
