Liebeslied

The nipple, shaped like Erato's grape,
touches his lips, as notes escape
from sweet Kithara's strings
to grace the page, to shimmer and elate.

Clear water trickles down her chest,
kisses smooth skin; it glides and rests
in that small valley just above the nest
where men sink hopes and dreams.

What bittersweet limerence unfolds
in answer to the deep abiding need,
to which the visage of his loved one holds
unbidden and mysterious key?