Sonnet

Come flower maid, reside under my shade
You need a quiet place to meet your lad
A hunger for his lips that will not fade
To be your place of meeting, I am glad

Under my canopy you can act coy
The lad is charming, true, make no mistake
I’ll never breathe a word about this boy
Glowing with the secrets you soon shall make

Your fingers around his now tightly curl
The sultry air stirs more than leaves and dew
Budding passions now threaten to unfurl
The thirst that parts your lips is fresh and new

Twist my branches ‘round your pretty waist
And bend into the river for a taste