At the dawn of the morning

There’s a poem on your lips,

And before you lose it yawning,

I steal it with a kiss.

Now I hold it in my cheeks

And I swill the words around,

Tasting for a lyric,

Feeling for a sound.

I swim around the adverbs,

My tongue a sailing ship,

Defining jumbled letters;

Swirling nouns onto my lip.

 

Cheeks swelling with possibilities,

Searching for the niceties.

 

What treasures do the lyrics hold?

I press them down:

Underline, and bold,

Then swallow them whole.

 

I think they spelled: “I love you”.

 

How. Un. Original.