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 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.