Before we met, I felt you had met me
Already. Then, when we met, your smile
Met mine instantly. Now, a blur to see,
Only left is memory – fades with while.
You’ve become a floating cloud: Circulates
‘Round my head, tempts me with puffs of pleasure.
Seduces with scents of ripe honied dates:
Passion fruit – my chest hungry for treasure.
In such craving, I’m consumed by this mist:
Luscious scent, but when chewed, tasting fruitless.
I consume still, for hunger pains insist,
But, clouds don’t fill – they are empty, rootless.
Yet, deep, in the chest, a sweet fountain lays:
Forever fills itself – always sweetness sprays.
COPYRIGHT Desiree Shokooh 10/19/2019