Lovescape.
I am soft-sift in thine hands.
Fast as in an hourglass the drift
toward fortunes of intimate fancy
begin as kisses scorch expectant skin.
I am drawn to thy courtship.
Fired by a moth-soft voice I try
to view in thine a whispered desire
of vow to out-ride my female shyness.
I am much beguiled by need.
Burnt to a frazzle in heat\'s bowl,
near stupefied by fire\'s rabid heave
resistance forsooth wilts to Cupid\'s role.
I am seared by thy fervour.
Bathed in amour\'s lusty lovescape
errant bliss gains fast pace for a certain
I thee favour thus shalt herewith capitulate.
Therefore I bid thee make haste.