98 Only one sip of your persistent flow -- one drop, Only one step with your evasive pace -- one turn, Only one touch of your unquiet hands -- one slide, Only one taste of your not rested lips -- one burn -- That was enough -- you had infected me with you, Watching the cutting steel of my resistant eyes Turn slowly into burning coals of darkened blue Grasped by the flaring fever of your growing fire. Patiently, you had watched me with your rested eyes, And with your quiet hands, you did not touch me then Till you transformed me into thirsty flow of drops, Laying your steel of anchors in my hidden sand.







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IRENE CĘSAR
Confined Verse
Collected Poems

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