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Morning bliss
You're standing calmly near an old huge oak
And memorising bliss of horny crust on fingertips;
The saphire inkle's lost in slight white fog;
It seems to be a windy path of fleeting dreaming trips.
A shrubbery of briar-rose has bursted,
Red sparkling specks appear time by time;
Sweet moisture on your lips, the thurst is worsted,
Enjoy this freshness of the morning rime.
Touch this balmy rose in a gentle way,
Sensual and full of heady wine;
Take a deep breath, making short delay,
Greedily, you feel "the world is mine".
The golden dust from creamy powder pentals
Will sprinkle curling hair and soft face skin.
Just leave yourself with swollen trembling mentals;
The amber juniper you sipped is honey gin...
