Saturday, August 8, 2009

The Taste of You

Maybe, just maybe, I am spoilt with you
I have drank a wine so full and deep
That nothing else will do.
So it’s in the world and out of it,
Not of this time and yet so tuned
That every shimmer teases me
and every movement, every beat
Reminds me of the taste of You.
I drink again.

No comments: