The afternoon sun
Is filtering through
The leaves of
A great and ancient
Oak.
Under its bower we recline
Shoeless atop a hand-pieced quilt,
You with your head
Upon my lap
And me with my fingers
Sifting slowly
Through your hair.
The remains of our picnic
Are shoved to one side,
Save for two plastic glasses,
A half-full bottle of wine,
And a few left over wedges
Of fine domestic cheese.
We are replete from our feast
Yet insatiable
For each other;
But still we linger
In this very public place,
Drawing out the moment,
Intensifying our anticipation,
Knowing what ecstasy
Awaits us
As soon as the kids
Go to bed
Tonight.
Ron
waiting for the kids to fall asleep
Love & Peace be with you
William