your rays

your rays,
  long, golding rays of Day’s Father,
   lay tame along your bare-blushed cheeks..

    oh, to grow them red, your cheeks,
     to lick with kiss left lingering,
      to unfold lips long chap’d
       with tongue’s lashings
        likened to striking-tip
         of quill..

          oh, how swift you lift eye from grounding,
           as though through limbs this gaze is floating,
            following the fall of your feet upon the carpet to
             your waist of hips rounded toward the floor
              and, facing cold restraint of rib with chest’s knocking loudly,
               this glance becomes but moment forgot-and-known in memory