They hummed.
And sang,
but when they drooled
I raised my hand
puckered my lips,
smoothed out my hair,
as if to say
I am perpetually
immersed in love,
with all of you.
And then they left,
to follow strange pursuits,
and harvest more exotic fruits.
I drooled just at the memory.
And then I died.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-then/
