Dashing (Rondine)

Run your finger along my arm
While on the loveseat we waited
Our love could not be abated
Wanting to raise no alarm
We lowered our level of charm
Keeping others from harm
But our loving fire was unsated
As Moon begin to cry

Tapping your finger in alarm
Into the back room we faded
The nearest room we raided
Almost arriving belated
It seem more than just fated
As we began to slowly warm
Away from the raging storm
As the moon began to cry

Lazy

Simply laying there
Hands running through my hair
Legs entangled
A nice pressure
The sun bestowing it's golden glow
Warm and cosy
The smell of leather and clean sheets
An unmade bed
Nowhere to go or be
Only here
With you and me

Treasured

We shared the rain for a while
But then the sky when blue
Led by your warm, radiant smile
The clouds hid from view
Days shared are golden
Treasured, precious and few
Love makes me bold in
All I say and do

Midnight Sonnet

Your breath is the desert breeze
Hot and warm and swift
It puts my weary soul at ease
And my mind begins to drift
It wanders back to olden days
When time was young and free
The simple games we used to play
When love was you and me
The world may break outside our door
We've braced for any storm
I could not ask for any more
Tucked into your arms so warm
So let the coming war begin
Together we can't help but win

Safari

Roaming adventure
A journey to lands unknown
Exploring the grass
Warm and gentle
Barefoot
The steady pace
Galloping to the finish
The pattern moves to crescendo
The homeland is within sight
Plant the flag
The quest is at the end

Decision

Decision

So warm and comforting

Your hand on my cheek

Just a little thing

To show how you care

How you hold my hair back

While I worship the porcelain god

When you bring me weak tea

And dry toast

There’s still love in your eyes

How long before you resent me?

Before you regret

The choice you have made?

I love you enough

To tell you to go

But I’m selfish enough

To ask you to stay

It’s your

Decision

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Bread Alone

The bread at the feast

Never gets the credit

Always there, warm and ready

Slightly soft, crusty on the outside

Ready to mop up the leftovers

No one ever sits down

For a meal of bread alone

Ripped open

Hot, steaming

Torn, it’s never the same

Shared, it’s always better

But it never

Stands

On its own

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