Sensory Opiate

Petals perfumed for the purpose,

Sweetly scented just for us,

Scattered from above to rest abed.

Fragile flower fragments,

Tinted pink and white pigments,

Pillowing softly our two heads.

 

Subtly stirring in the air,

Bouquet of roses in our hair,

Drowsy opiate of love’s addiction.

We turn and gather close,

Bodies melding head to toes.

Soporific lovers’ benediction.

Your Voice

Your voice is quite mellifluous

In my imagination

It washes clear across my pores

And takes me to your nation.

It may be one like Hugh of Oz

That melts and quivers knees,

Or could be spoken like a kiss

That touches, breathes with ease.

It could be a Canadian

Or US dialect,

It could be Scots or Irish

With a something in its fleck.

It could be just my hearing

That warms to accents so.

It may be just the words you say

That cause ears and heart to glow.