In The Sweet Smell Of Summer Flowers Poem by Zyw Zywa

My parents are away, we can go
to bed, but not even with an excuse

do I dare to go in the direction
of my room with you

or take your hand without
saying anything, because

do you want it to, and what face
should I have? That's why

a whole line of neighbours are our witnesses
that we let fly the thought of naked kisses

and lightly floating in love
with full attention

we alternately strike it off
playing badminton

in the sweet smell of summer flowers