lovers
cautious crouch behind the boxwood bush.
They are cold and bare
as in a game, the game
held breaths and sighs on the skin:
is the festival of caresses,
the damp earth of the park is now a thing
remote
a bed of grass has them
bodies are trying a thousand times,
explore the
crevices and cavities of love,
Time / hourglass basks slow its golden sand:
the minutes are hours or perhaps days.
groans in the crowd of weary, Cupid and Psyche
, guardians of the pond observed
speechless.
federico
---- 3javu.blogspot.com ---- 
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