Allow Me

Allow me take a knee before thee
and touch thy hand with mine.
I’d fail to but say ‘A adore thee’
when thou art most divine!

Allow me gently press my lip
against thy could-silk skin.
And pray forgive my trembling grip;
but a symptom of my sin.

Allow me take in thy heaven’s scent
and breathe deep that sweetest flower.
It doth cloak me in soft torment
and threaten virtues to devour.

Allow me beg the taste of thy kiss
that my soul, at last, lay still.
Here in the cold waste, my abyss,
thou art dear warmth to the chill.

  —George Gibson