Dove is not so pure as the sweet
soft blowing
of your breath
upon my cheek
that like a mother rocks her baby
lulls me now to sleep
and just
my waking state
comfy on
the cloud
no purer bliss comes to my ear
but your heart’s pulsing sound.
Oh! let us lie here like two feathers
Blown just now to the gound,
resting on each other
until forever comes around