To My Dove Going To Roost by Sakariyah Ridwanullah

Ached, pained, cried to no avail,

All of this your love made me do.

I was half-mad when your memory came,

That far-distanced you are,

From why I sojourned.

All Joys from above in you confine;

dwell, leisure, reside and relax.

I long to bring herein—into my head,

my heart and my body, the escapades

with which you fed me the last time

around the smiling of a yellow sun.

As a day lodged in, another went packing.

Winter would less be reluctant to suck the 

red water in me to the last drop if not

for your lovely hands caressing;

roving through my body; upwards,

downwards my belly arousing the man

in me. Until I held your breast; suck it,

squeeze it, moving my lips all over your

fair, robust body. That quenched my cold.

O you my home! my very comfort station!

Fully naked, give me again another chance

My Diadem is giving a Clarion call

Again in that majestic bedroom, kitchen room

Sitting room - all call my attention

A loser I be if back I do not come;

If the call I do not answer,

If the food you prepare I do not come to taste.

My home, my comfort zone!

To you I am coming back.