Adrift and afloat as we please,
souls intertwined risen on a breeze.
Bodies tingle when lovingly held,
euphoria and ecstasy mesh and meld.
Mind’s go blank and words just sound,
hands to feel, feel all around.
Kisses gentle and lips explore,
sensation’s mutual, that’s for sure.
Breathings heavy and hearts at rest,
eyes see eyes, a view that’s best.
Darkness fills the blinks between,
soon to sleep where dreams are seen.
Hours will pass in starlit bliss;
the sun then rises for another kiss.
Two shall wake to greet the day;
joined as one we’ll find our way.
My mind’s blank but I can’t complain,
it’s certainly better than being insane.
But if I was, how would I know?
Would I feel high or way down low?
Would I be happy or angry or sad?
Would I be good or be really bad?
Could I still write? Could it be read?
Would I know if I were alive or dead?
Would I be recognized by friends I meet?
Would I wander aimlessly up and down the street?
Would there be a reason for the questions I ask?
Could I complete a minimal task?
Would I care or would I hide in shame?
Or would my life be pretty much the same?
I don’t have the answers, at least not today.
But if I’m asking, I’m probably OK.
There are parts of her I’ve yet to kiss.
But all will be found and none I’ll miss.
Her lips well covered her face always more,
her neck I long to further explore.
Her lobes enjoyed and nibbled much.
Her body quivers to my gentle touch.
Passion ensues and intuition guides.
New destinations found as my tongue glides.
Her response is felt on my warm lips,
whilst hands caress her soft round hips.
The kissing proceeds from her head to toes.
But parts in-between I shan’t expose.
My patience for summer is wearing thin.
The novelty’s over for peeling off skin.
I’m looking forward for autumn to begin,
when cool, crisp morning’s return a grin.
The leaves will turn to gold and reds.
They’ll float to the ground nourishing beds.
Rakes will be pulled from overstuffed sheds,
soon replaced with our winter sleds.
Christmas and New Year’s, Oh what a blast,
though the warm, cheery feelings never last.
The future’s bitter cold, I long for the past.
The seasons shine on our natures contrast.
But spring will come and life’s renewed.
Optimism blooms and reality’s skewed.
Normality is as is the cycle it’s viewed.
With eyes to the stars, the burn subdued.
My word for the day is unforthcoming.
The results of which have got me bumming.
Its meaning is clear and so apropos.
I need to write but I’ve lost the flow.
People I ask are too unforthcoming.
The guesses they make are all unbecoming.
Or they just shrug and say “I don’t know”.
My patience then reaches another plateau.
The future’s events remain unforthcoming.
Yet my wordy obsession is clearly mind numbing.
I’ve planted this seed that now I must sow.
I’ve felt the drought and now I must grow.
Though this poem’s end is still unforthcoming,
my mood’s improving, soon I’ll be humming.
But to not get too stressed I’ll take it real slow,
so if not today then surely tomorrow.