Wide-eyed he comesAnd breathes the sun on to my lips
And with laughter
Winds his tongue on to my finger tips.
He takes me to his breast
And comforts me
And brings the earth into my arms
As he caresses me.
He gives to me the flowers of his soul
And bathes me with the perfume of his eyes
And how my heart is full as he comes near
And whispers in my ear his last goodbyes.
He goes
And lingers at the door a while
And I could weep to see
The sad half-crescent of his smile.
Elisabeth Derwent Bayet
