Lips

Your lips call to me without words,

Just how ironic that is.

Something that has the power to set free birds

Or utter poetry rich in 'thou' and 'tis'

And yet no words will leave those lips

No sound, but I hear you beckoning me.

What slight curves and subtle dips

Do those lips have for my eyes to see.

But I do not wish to see or hear you now,

There is no need for those senses when

Compared to what those lips do vow,

Such feeling I will never accurately pen.

So all I can do is beg you, let me feel,

And I know I will enjoy everything you deal.