A morning dawns, of loving passion bright
warm kisses stroke most gently you awake.
Sweetest stirring draws you to the light
and lays down gifts you never hold or take.

By love's pull drawn, you follow worship’s song
that praises your sweet scent with gifted tongue.
To you alone these praises do belong
when Venus’ trap on willing prey is sprung.

You leave the safety of your warming cave
and spread out, gleaming beautiful and bright.
You stretch and reach for passion’s humble slave,
you fill the air with scent of pure delight.

And then, you stretch quite further, snap, and drip
from rosy folds onto my greedy lip.