[Yves S L]

Since you the light is brighter in my eyes,
And more and more I shut them tight to heal
Them from their own impudent rushes. Whys
And wherefores make no sense: I feel, I feel,
And feeling is enough. I hear the bee
Across the fields approach a jasmine flower.
How soft it lands! How soft you land on me!
How much can be extracted hour by hour?

It is not work; it is not even play.
The petals calmed to watch the bee delay,
Anticipating all that waiting weight,
While wondering exactly what can sate
What cannot stay still sated. I must know
Before I touch you and your skin says "no".