Song of Songs 8:1-3

I wish you were like my brother who fed at my mother’s breasts. If I found you outside, I would kiss you, and no one would look down on me. I would lead you and bring you to my mother’s house; she is the one who taught me. I would give you a drink of spiced wine from my pomegranates. My lover’s left hand is under my head, and his right arm holds me tight.