Omar

In paradise I recline with
This loaf of bread,
This bottle of wine,
And this book of poems,
Beneath the shade of this tree.

But give me your lips,
And I need no wine,
A lap to lay my head
And I will rest comfortably,
Reading poetry in your eyes.

Without you, I sit in darkness,
A shadow, drunken and bloated,
Like Rip Van Winkle,
Passing eternity asleep,
Waking in hell.