With twilight’s curtain drawn so low,
The evening’s hush begins to grow,
And in this quiet, I confess
A tender, hungry hopefulness.

It’s not the pantry’s stocked array
That calls my thoughts to drift and stay,
But you, my sweet, my only thought—
A feast of fortune I was brought.

Your laughter is the sugar’s dust
On skin where fleeting sunlight’s thrust.
I trace the line from wrist to neck,
A promise I am bound to check.

A taste of salt where shoulders gleam,
A slow and savored, silent dream.
The curve of you, a crescent treat,
So tender, delicate, and sweet.

I’ll take my time, no hurried bite,
To find the flavor in the light
That dances in your twilight eyes,
A dessert beneath these sighing skies.

For every freckle is a sprinkle,
Where every anxious thought can crinkle
And melt away like chocolate spun
Beneath a slow and warming sun.

And if a sigh escapes your lips,
A honeyed phrase on fleeting trips,
I’ll catch it soft, and understand
The artistry beneath my hand.

So let the night be deep and long,
And let the world forget its song.
My love, my banquet, pure and true,
I’ll savor every bit of you.