. . .
I'd say you take my breath away If I didn't give it anyway If I didn't know you'd give me yours Of course The frozen hail crushed between the treads of our boots melts onto the rug almost half as fast as we melt into the bed after feasting on bowed cuddles and wine and bread You touch me as deeply as the ocean is dark While I watch cinders float smokily behind iris emeralds I slip down into shivering warmth hold me, hold me sliding taxing tongue embraced by legs and flowers We don't care how many hours fall in the river soaked and tasting of moss and earth
. . .
(written 2/14/19)