In a glance,
a smooth gentle curve,
winding around a world,
where my want might remain,
it is in this quiet
the shape of you,
with eyes enhanced,
suggesting I might take you,
suggesting please do take me,
in that moment
I am a wonder in fantasy,
only with a desire might I recall,
the contours of a settling valley,
a surreal stream,
the rising waters will then give me pause,
for it is here in the nature of love,
I do wish to watch springs flow,
the gasps of evening, a sensory paradise,
it is a caress of her sweet remedy,
my dreams become reality.
I can only imagine those moments,
While life around me continues to breathe.
I wonder about state of mind, happiness,
While everywhere I look seems so calm.
Inside my imagination is wishing for touch,
A tangible reminder of her quiet love
I glance out a window at a morning breeze,
The trees settle in motion, a thoughtful tease.
I wonder about her, and where might her eyes,
Find the same motion, her nature, similar leaves
When is the departure of love like the storm ahead,
Our eyes cannot see the future, we only dream
Of what once was, we want badly a return
In softer terms, we won’t let go ever a yearn.
When I think about her, I do want only sweet
Memory to last beyond the hurt so incomplete.
It is different,
after the crossover,
the hesitation, quiet wonder, private …
When the choice is made,
a difficult mantra begins in the mind,
that one says,
“it’ll be ok”
reason matter over second guessing
is that the other way around,
the nature of our being lays the groundwork,
for all reason in the mind,
even when the jump …
A Saturday night,
I am alone with wanderlust desire,
that kinetic energy that drives my soul,
I am afraid,
I may not in the near future,
have the confidence,
the sort of, the, I want, I mean, it’s like
a different take
when drifting slowly across the landscape –
the other side.
When I do touch her,
there is this immediate
sensory need to know pleasure,
not my own,
hers, the sense of where I might be,
will soon discover a gasp,
a garment with my teeth,
a gently bite of her shoulder,
swept away to a naked caress,
and my tongue and lips explore
her every being,
and yet, we are just beginning,
I move with hands on shoulders,
her open neck waiting,
enough to know when touch,
her head flails,
wanting my every motion to capture,
the essence of her woman.
… and then I will let my hands cup
the simple nature of her being,
lips finding, fingertips tracing,
tongue a twirl,
now it is her gasps will let my hands
fall to discover a center,
that part of her beauty I imagine,
only when apart how much I would carefully,
taste her excitement.
For it is then we know there is integrity,
in the nature of woman, in woman,
in her wanting to feel,
wanting to reveal that which will
allow me to reach inside her whole.
When a younger man,
I had these notions about love,
seemed to me,
the word could manifest itself,
in a red bikini laying next to me on a beach near a man-made lake.
At fourteen, I could see her nipples through the sheer fabric,
the lower garment-like a drape,
covering some aspect of woman
I would later only cherish as my spiritual mecca.
But I’ll never forget her breasts in red velvet,
at least that was my impression,
a hot summer day,
my erection buried in the sand.
See the reality is I was afraid to look,
and yet she was delighted to feel so beautiful,
to know eyes would glance,
and all I wanted to do was
just tell her,
just find the right words to suggest how wonderful
she made me feel,
buried in the sand in a safe sort of adolescent scream.
When I was a younger man,
I began to love woman,
not women, but the essence of her being,
and I would imagine the travels,
my lips, my fingertips,
my journey to bring only pleasure to her eyes,
with my head buried in the sand.
i’m not ready, cried,
not at all as satisfied,
Might words draw an artwork around her beauty,
She beget that fair that will cause eye sudden stir.
A man’s glance to ask for sunlight in a stream
Would accentuate sensuality ease frivolity.
Oh then we do wonder what words exist in her,
When in watch, she will heads turn it seem.
A walk would give light to her every step
As perhaps imagine linens do tease inside
A world of private affair, only meant for one.
In that integrity of Grace, we might worship
A sinewy storm of her surreal glance aside
A measured smile, a breeze in privacy undone.
We would that opportunity survey elegance
With eye alive, I do delight we share a glance.