Of Yore

The secret sex.
It was the best.
Enduringly invisible,
within our little nest
made just for two.
Or there, in distant mountains,
sweet relief found on a bed
of morning dew.
It was a dream.
It felt so real.
We called it love
but never really knew
what living love was for.
Waking up, we left
and closed the door.
Long departed ecstasy
awakening in memory.
Remembering the long lost
love of yore...

? Michaelette ?

3/26/2005
Copyright© 2005 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .