On one faithful day, it will be your lips caressing my insipid lips instead of the sun’s rays. Momentarily, I anticipate to feel your earnest breath across my body instead of the balminess of the breeze.
It’s your handsome voice murmuring in my ears that I aspire to hear, and not the tracks and refrains of the birds though their melodies are so sweet and dear.
It’s the trace of your hands and the touch of your encirclement I hunger for; however, I must be modest, because in you I sense this Platonic love I wish to perpetually grow.
From my head to my toes, I wait to feel the soft texture of you, for you alone can bring me on the billows of seventh-heaven.