Plenitude

The play on words was softer than
the lips that spoke and said I am
beside myself in love with you –
a truth as grand as rising sun or
chiming of a birthing moon

And when you say you care for me
in gestures sweet that gift perfume
like flowers a-vase devour a room
I am no less empowered with this
this fragrant promise of such bliss

I watch your eyes to glimpse a glint
of precious jewels afire, motion never
stops, crinkled smiles are beamed
abundantly, perceptive sparkles buy
allure – and in my eyes it never tires

If this is love I witness here I wither
in its patient heat, melt to puddles
graciously and bathe assured your
golden feet – there is no massage
less to fete your molten plenitude
© 4 August 2010, I. D. Carswell