Made weightless on thy voice's subtle lilt,
Thy beauty, mine eyes greedily consume --
Pull me down to meet thee, if thou wilt.
Bring me close, pull of my kite string,
Make of me thy wind-dancing balloon,
Thy joylful laugh -- a light, melodic thing,
My hands and lips, longing for thee, soon.
Thy presence makes of me a fool, to wit,
A dreamer, in the clouds my head e'er dwells,
I fly as eagle, as hummingbird I flit,
Lifted by thine most euphoric spells.
On second thought, love, join me in my glee,
Take my hand -- I'll pull thee up to me.
- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.
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