Softly sleeping in your tender nest
of jet black curls and palest moonlit flesh,
sweetly, as if evening's work is done
instead of gath'ring strength for what's to come.
Awake now, little bird, rise up and fly,
up to my parted lips and tongue that beckon
you to spread your wings and swiftly glide
down slick paths where passions' river runs.
Feast now, little bird, from my damp fingers
as they stroke your dewy feathered neck
and on one glistening pearl drop, stop and linger
to hold your throbbing, frightened heart in check.
Arise now, little bird, and taste my kiss,
a ruby-throated flight of starry bliss
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