If Only what she see is Me
Then my Hurt will strangulate,shred and Un-steam
Till I swim the rivers of her thighs still.
If Only what she does is wring
Then let it be D swaying rings
on her bare chest, So I cling.
If all she can is Born
Let it be from the offshoots I pour
When my thighs sings, as offsprings come forth
If, if,… If she can just be Mine
Then the rivers will hum and Rhyme
As a world unfold, and our souls fuse like Curry & Thyme.