Intimate moments with a special person.
When I think of my intimate moments of life,
The peace and contentment and absence of strife
There was more that one lady I shared them with
Those moments of passion and moments of bliss.
As I try to recall all those moments gone by
All those earlier moments how hard I must try
To remember them and what they did mean.
It is even harder to remember the scene.
As I struggle and struggle and try to recall,
I soon come to realize they were not intimate at all.
To be intimate is more than just biological drive
It is two people who to understand each other do strive.
From the very first night with my fine lady I sat
We just sat and talked of this and of that.
We became friends, then buddies before anything else
And the welfare of the other was the same as of self.
To this very day we can still sit and talk
But best of all is to talk as we walk
Round the streets of our neighborhood just before dusk.
Those walks are so peaceful, so quiet and so hushed.
As we walk hand in hand or with our arms round each other
If anyone is watching we do not even bother.
As we walk and we talk we are only aware
Of each other and if others are watching just let them stare.
They will soon realize those old fuddy-duddies at dusk
Are so much in love, they talk, as all true lovers must.
We are halves of each other and when we come together
We must talk to each other so the other knows whether
Our love was still strong as we went through our day
And just what has happened while each half was away.
To others I say when you go home tonight
Donít turn on the TV just turn on the light,
And sit there and talk to the one you love best.
That intimacy alone will take care of the rest.
I will miss my great love if she is first to go
And the other way round it still will be so.
I will look down from above as she goes through her life
To still love and protect her, that love of my life
A poem by P.J. McCormick
Copyright Mar 9, 2005
All Rights Reserved