We were like the misty pollen
Swarming in the wind
Carelessly simple yet vividly mad
As our bodies swam in the summer rain
Until fabrics were moisture-heavy
And my beloved’s larger-than-life breasts
Were imploring for the palms-feel
Basking in the sheer lingerie
Of soaked white cotton

We played hide and seek
As we unzipped and unbuttoned
And kindled the tinder of our lips
With flaming passion
We jumped on to a pile of golden straw
Fondling towards one beautiful ecstasy
Tongue-fooling while planting baby kisses
On her wilderness, as goosebumps
Rose like pomegranate arils
From between her ribcage halves
Marking my territory from breast to navel

We danced like Saturnalia
As we made a Monet masterpiece
With a few traces of Renoir
Until the wildfires ceased to smolder
And the high notes left their orbitals
And grounded to a protracted lull
And we knew that our souls had conversed
As our tongues fenced
And bodies blazed

And while the hay was still crispy and brown
Our bodies were now weary and sore
And we knew that this was not merely counter-immunity
But the promise of love
To one day spin straw to a band of gold
– in a Rumpelstiltskin legacy –
After all the comfy haystack
Will one day become a marriage-bed
And that in itself is a beautiful miracle
When a pledge cross-pollinates sanctum
When a hay-wain ushers in
An irrational itch – seemingly till ever-last

And in that beautiful coir-tradition
Lies the soul of hay fever.