This is a kind of Rhymester poem that came to Deeya in a certain delight seeing the lips of someone who’s very close to her. She was taken in by the colour her friend wore on that day.
Give me those satin lips
lips that form prayers on stone
in heart wrenching pain;
lips that mould broad daylight
in rain in sun in no moon nights
Those lips among Irises that wear
the colours abortive in shade
lips that survive the colour of buttercups on snow and glade
Give me the lips
that wear your sheen
Give me those lips
that among mankind wean
Give me the lips vital to life
Give me those blissful lips in strife.
Pic from the Net.