Thy lips*

Thy lips red red
Takes me to
The morning's
Drops of dew
On petals
Oft,
How lingering
At the edge
They appear
Soft,

Thy lips,
Red red
How me takes to
the morning's
Drops of dew
Hanging quiet
At the edge
Of leaves
Soft,

And then
By thy bless
Pure,
How me writes
Drenched by light,

Aubade,
Serene
Upon our waking,
To the newest day,
As breaking
From behind those hills,
Where Peace stays,
Like a devout sage,
Stilled.

(*Note: upon a photograph loosely based, photooped by me, for poesy, courtesy : Unite the World, )