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Click hereIt is not hard to murmur: "I love" now,
As hands massage your back, releasing tension,
Dusk's fingers crawl across the sky: they plough
The daylight from the heavens; by extension
Vague voices that call us from far away,
Can scarcely be a matter of concern
To my hands or to you, engaged in play;
They go about their business; they'll not learn
Of our connection on this grassy hill:
Some secrets will be kept and never shared,
The intimacy gathered through the skill
Of hands that ventured where no others dared;
The moments pass, but feelings do not fade:
How can I help but love all you've displayed.
M
Tender and beautiful. It struck me like a tune played on a harpsicord. All delicate, twinkling notes. Delicious.