So the nymphs they spoke,
we kissed and laid.
By noontime’s hour
our love was made.

Like braided chains of crocus stems,
we lay entwined, I laid with them.
Our breath, one glassy, tideless sea,
our bodies draping wearily,
we slept, I slept so lucidly,
with hopes to stay this memory.

Roman Payne

Stichwörter: love poetry sleep spring nymphs coming-of-spring

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