She inhales the sweet, green scent of crushed grass
While he tenderly eases her onto the meadow’s floor.
Her head is awash with emotions, colors and smells
As he looks into her eyes,
Cupping her chin in his calloused hand.
The warm sun glowing in the morning’s azure sky,
Among soft, pearl-touched clouds,
Disappears from view as his lips touch hers.
The taste of his mouth is like mead for her soul.
His scent, a mixture of sweat and musk,
Intoxicates her further.
Crickets chirping their recurring chorus,
And the trill of the meadowlark’s melody,
Are replaced by the musical sound of
Her sighs of bliss as their bodies join.
The summer sun cannot match the heat
Their consummation creates.
Later, as they lay side by side on the dewy ground,
Cooling their bodies and their passions,
She knows she must tuck this memory inside
For comfort in the cold of a winter’s day.
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and here I've been playing golf and mowing the lawn.
I like your memories more.
-James
Love from India - Joel -