Friend to Lover

This ecstasy of words is something new
I never knew the passion they could bring
When shared with someone who’s impassioned too
And loves to hear sonnettic words I sing
I guess iambic rhythm turns her on
Or else she feels my words are warm, like skin
But either way, the French would call it “bon’
“La petite mort” is started deep within
I need to make a lover of my friend
Our words compel our friendship to remain
Our words of love will never have an end
And wordless sounds will not be sung in vain
I want to make her scream in ecstacy
with passion that my lover feels for me.

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