Sonnet, for My Ilsa in the Eastbypushkine©
You know who you are. Or should.
We've kissed, though we've not kissed. For lips can play
Imagination streams as well as mind.
To say I have not kissed you takes away
Your touch, but not lip's feeling left behind.
For more than physicality is Love,
Though Thought affects the Physical as well—
A postulate impossible to prove
To fingertips that cannot smooth the swell
Envisioned of your loosed and languid breasts.
No psychic, I, nor any kind of seer;
Just lover. One who's distant, not bereft,
For while I can imagine you, you're here.
No kiss is still just kiss, when played again.
Why Paris never needs to be explained.
Survivor Poetry Contest
Form N (English Sonnet)