NETiverse: lingering electronic imprints of being

Lovely Queen, a good high noon!
I wish I’m royal fork or spoon
Be pressed between rosy lips,
Or be the soup to quench your sips

As the scorching, lunch-time sun,
Love’s hunger- never temperate
Of lifeless things, dreaming as one
In aiming to be intimate

Charming Queen, a hot twelve noon!
Shall I wait for the Reign of Moon?
Her little light and mild heat,
Can roast this love to tasty meat.