Little hot In Tennessee outside as well in my writing here

Hot humid dog days of summer no relief in sight
Grass turns brown and crackles under your feet
Trees limp over as roots search deep for any drop of moisture
Birds fly for miles to find a pond not bone dry.

As I sit and rock on the porch just hoping for a breeze
You bring me some lemonade fresh squeezed
Beneath your open blouse the sweat beads run down your breast
Winking my eyes saying let’s make love but not in the hot house.

Taking your hand leading down the sandstone path to the cool spring
Our eyes never part hearing only the beating of our hearts
Forest canvass will hide our bodies from the burning sunrays
Kentucky fescue at the spring’s bank will be our lover’s bed.

A flock of birds provide their love songs for us
Laying down we flip off our shoes, dangling our feet in the cool spring
My kisses flow like the cool spring water upon your lips
Our eyes telling each other let’s take a nice cool dip.

Each button I open reveals silky breast so firm
Then your nipples as they show your desire
I feel you hand cup my neck and place my lips upon them
Nibbling, kissing, and tracing my lips are set on fire

Passionate we toss and roll in grass
Soon totally naked slip off into the spring
Cool fresh water flows over our bodies
Love making that is so relaxing.

Birds have left as we are making our song of love
We are like two minnows swimming in the spring
Our passions making both of us scream from what we feel
August lust that is so real.


John Thomas Banasiewicz Jr.
Copyright 2006