On the riverbank

On the riverbank he dreams
Not knowing yet where it might lead
A pale hand strokes his golden curls
Rose red lips, his sun-kissed neck
‘my love’ whispered, breathed in his ear
A beautiful morning in spring

On the riverbank he dreams
Knowing now where it might lead
Kissing, touching, stroking, loving
Time stops and yet it flies
Rose petals slowly falling
A hot morning in spring

On the riverbank he dreams
Remembering where things may lead
Soaring, floating, rising, falling
over the water and between the clouds
soft lips brushing his thighs
A tender morning in spring