Option 5

by Edward Alan Bartholomew 

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Kiss upon my lover's nose:

It is for you the blossom grows.

Notice now it fans itself

Beyond the bough and hither flows. 


Or else the scents came forth aroused

Not by those lips but by their boughs

Who shook and left them to the lake

With whose waters we are daily doused. 


But could we shake the scent from trees

And drink the petals' milk as bees,

We might not lead our lips astray

And plant wet kisses where we please.