True love…
true love, arise for our trysting… 
a young scented wind hastens by to remind us 
the season is on us; 
the hour is right.
Oh, do you remember an April behind us,
when dogwood twined gentle and white?
Your voice was a singing bird,
caught in the branches.
Your hair, a bright river that curved as it fell, 
and silky your eyelids were… cool as the blossoms.
Your mouth for my thirst was a well.

True love…
true love, arise for our trysting.
Leave your throat bare….
and your long hair undone.
We will lean to each other,
where wild boughs are misting,
and shake out our dreams in the sun!