When first my senses were
warm, the air of heated sun upon my flesh,
moving into me as time itself just disappeared;
long before and far behind the time
of moonbeams reaching out and touching you.
You moved - electrically enchanting.
You breathed - and oh, my lungs became your breath.
You looked at me, but did you ever see just who I was?
And feelings stirring deep within my heart and soul
were spent within an oceanic tide that overwhelmed
what should have been most intimate of all.
I reached - oh that first
time we almost touched -
so close, so close, it meant so much
to merely feel your aura glowingly inviting me
to enter into intimate denial and to share
all that you had never dared to share before.
The scent of growth was intermittently
air filled with moisture from the long and swaying grass,
bending oh so easily within the sultry summer breeze;
and stars reached down to touch the ground,
blazing then again within your eyes.
Youthful energy aroused a
that beckoned us to move yet closer still.
Undeniable, the magnetic pull of sun and moon;
or again, those bitingly metallic meteor showers
in hues of bronze and silvered gold,
that told all tales of sensuous delight.
We completed our misunderstanding
feeling, touching everything without a single word
to bridge the chasm found between we two;
and in between the mind and soul and flesh,
rendering a great unlinking attitude
that could be seen as disrespect
(or then again, it might be said to be
the purity of all obscenity),
we touched again.
So pure, a mighty angel entered
into form and flesh,
seeding all most base with a divinity of creativity.
She too, was there - goddess of the earthen atmosphere -
reveling within the power of her attraction,
yet just before the god
would deign to enter in complete,
a fear you felt exposed itself
and then expanded into your withdrawal.
Instantaneous, your climax
came and went
as all you'd been became a part of me.
You felt so free then, to move on to someone new
for you had failed to hold the view from up above,
and what began as endless love became
no more than moments of a great departure.
Years have come and gone and
while the ultimate of what once was, began
in fields of honesty that never came to bloom.
And it still hangs, unhinged, as if about to fall
waiting, oh so faithfully, for its recall . . .
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...