Heat

Sweat like rain on swollen breast
Soaking all the lifting hearts
Cotton clings like rags with needs
On this waiting form.

Let the waiting hopefuls breathe
In the scent of bodies hot
Nothing lies now in between
And dreams are made of lighter stuff.

In the heat that burns like fire
baking all the lesser things
Let us not but praise desire
In place of hope that gives us wings.

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