Old and Wise

Posted: December 30, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: , , , ,

gloves

Walk by my caress,

and let me breathe,

beauty in summer dress,

unmasks my sheathe.

I landed here,

recently much to my demise.

It became clear,

I’m older and less wise.

I follow quickly,

my yearnings to flower,

soft petals lovely,

bound by thoughts of her.

Happens every day,

I might walk alone,

and yet in any way,

her desire I hone;

inside my own mind,

is where my desire dares.

I can imagine in kind,

the delight of her wares.

Yet, here I do recall,

a time when I knew love

an energy beyond all

soft tease of sweet glove.

My passion is real,

I yearn for her caress,

while on a sweet day I reel,

sweet surreal sundress.

I would love your commentary

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