Come, now, make love to me.

© 2008

Dan Johnson

Back-story:

On a recent train trip, I was returning to Portland, Oregon and happened to be in the lounge car when a young man asked if he could share the space.  Never being one to turn down a chance to converse with someone besides myself, I welcomed his arrival.

After we introduced ourselves to one another, he said, “I’m going to Seattle, how about you?”  I told Anon that is his name that I was going to Portland, then on to the Oregon Coast, where I live.

While we were travelling west, we could see the eastern edge of the foothills of Glacier National Park and Anon said…”Look at those mountains, they sit there like a beautiful woman seducing you to come make love to them.”

We continued talking about a number of things but my mind kept going back to his statement and the plea from the beautiful woman.

Come, now, make love to me.

Here I wait, waiting only for you,

Through springs floods,

Summers heat,

Autumn means out with the old,

 Winter has its mood.

While I wait patiently for you to embrace my being,

I have been here ten thousand years and ten thousand more,

However, my yearning is now, only for you.

Come, now, make love to me

My fields are fertile for the taking,

My streams run through the veins of my soul,

My supple grassy meadow,

Keeps calling for you, to slip into forever dreams while,

I keep calling, waiting, crying, and hoping

That one day you will come, now, and make love to me.

At about 10pm, the train stopped at Whitehorse, Montana and the air cold and crisp, snow covered the ground, and the train moved slowly west of Glacier and could be heard through it’s lonesome whistle, “I’ll be back” and a breeze meandered through the trees whispering from a distant place; come, now, make love to me.