The Maples Are Green Still

Perhaps in slumber lies / as yet unemerged / the tarnished copper of their leaves / and my beloved’s too / I remember the red hot rages / that awakened / under my gypsy lips. / Was there ever a woman / able with words to describe the splendours of her / lover’s body? / Ya Allah / import for us / for my silent one and me / from the heavens above / a language that is versatile / and conveys love’s anguish / and the concomitant bliss / with words that resemble the sighs / of moments when we cling / and afterwards uncling / in leisurely detumescence / Ya Allah / I thank you once again / and again and again / For this gift of a man / who is now my sustenance / the draught I thirsted for / and the sole raiment / for my nudity, both my body’s / and my soul’s.