EYES
Your eyes cannot your love
disguise
Nor hands belie gentle moods
Your very breath in syncopated
sighs
Moves in concert with heaving
breast, exudes
Your very soul, peninsular and
surrounded
With all the seas that mold your
mortal being,
Shape the tenderness expounded
By your smile, your passion, your
joy beyond all seeing.
Who shall receive this packet,
rich and fair?
Would he be worthy of the golden
balm
Extruding from every pore and
without care
Heals those whose fortunes
summon stroking palm
Inebriating sentences long ago
forgot
To pacify the ills that strangle
future’s calm?
I am he who seeks that longing
gaze
To encumber me with all of you
That I am not worthy to embrace
Living eternally with never the
thought of final adieu
jon jacobs
Poe et here 
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