Outside our bedroom window---
Chickadees are feeding,
“Come back to bed my Darling,” he said,
“Tis you I am needing.”
I gave nothing else my attention,
With his kissable fingers on my lips,
his slow hand rubbing out my tension,
His full experience lover’s lips mastered
and devoured mine,
As his slow fingers found my secret places
and kept the time.
Slow hands of a lover will electrify a body not
No spot was left jealous--- nor, neglected,
his hands were top rated.
His muscles bulged against the skin of his tanned frame,
So hard against my softness—it drove me insane
—this slow and sweet Sunday morning loving
---would I ever be the same?
His blue eyes stared into mine,
They promised another place, another time.
His lips then followed the path of his slow hand,
My body convulsed with waves of passion by this
He was the Maestro who conducted passionate
music to my heart,
Tied in a lovers knot we rose toward Heaven and
kissed the star in the early dawn—never to be apart.
We held each other in our afterglow, until the sunlight
filtered through the room,
In our bed we wished to stay and—play-- until noon.
But time was doomed—as outside our door---
three pairs of feet came knocking,
“Mommy, Daddy--- surprise we are up!” Angel voices of
our triplets shouted, which was not shocking.
I opened door, and in flew three representations of our love,
to jump on their daddy in the bed,
And I laughed as I step through the shower door he mouthed
to me---I am dead.
With sweet lips so warm and tender,
Yes, slow sweet Sunday morning loving is always on my agenda.
© BEPH 2015 All Rights Reserved
PurvisBobbi44 is the sole author of these poems and if they are seen anywhere else on the Internet or in print it was taken without my consent.
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