her lips had kissed many a man a butterfly
Fragrant and vivid like a spring day in May
Yet not to the point of pollination.
She waited for a kiss that tasted of wealth
She dreamed of a castle and ballgown if silk
Sailing down the river on a boat made
Of a swans’ feather sewn by silky threads.
She met him and when they embraced,
It was as wonderous as when earth and
Heaven became one and nothing counted
At last fertilisation and deep was their love.
At dawn she awoke he had gone, Nine
a month later she gave birth to a golden son,
Her lover is a poet living inside his dream.