Soit-il la Vie: Intense, Aimante?

[Back to texts
[Back to home page


This is a sonnet written back in the day. I had to edit it slightly.


Awaiting you in smiles, I turn towards your hands,
Predicting, where they are; It's but my place to rest.
O, Sweetest meet my lips, to kiss our private dance!
Thus free within your arms, my heart feels truly blessed.

Your dulcet voice does bow my soul until I chime
All songs of love I have and in your lilt find more.
The youness, that is you, speaks to me line by rhyme.
Seducing me of course, though I was yours before.

The texture of your skin, its glow and warmth and scent,
Your silhouette beneath, all which entwines with me.
Two perfect shapes, that rise to lips' and tongue's intent.
Their beauty is beyond, what hands and mind will see.

Then easy as a breath, we slip and so are one.
Though more than I can write, I have not yet begun.