Ripe

My desire is a fruit
That fell from the tree
And burst on the ground.
My love is all around,
Succulent and free,
Sacred and sound:
Come give me a kiss!
 
Why, if I spend my days
Dreaming of your scent
And fondling the very air
Every second I spend and however I fare—
Take pity on me! A mere mortal I am,
And the flesh being weak—
Come give me a kiss!