by Gideon O. Burton

by Gideon O. Burton

One word slow ripens, opens on her lips
Twice stirred by kisses, silenced, pursed,
The current aches in her, she tastes she sips,
Demure to savor silence, let him first
Unwind her gaze, distill to language white
And fine as pearls or milk one drop one word
Resigns her will and still he waits and weights
The time with heavy hope, he moves toward
The, oh, so simple syllables, he breathes
To stow the courage, births the thought in flesh
"And soľ" "Don't speak, I know," say eyes and seethes
And flows their minute, minds, and hands to mesh
     Combine, contract, renew, awake, confess:
     One word she urges, sudden, quiet: yes.

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