Retired, but not from life and love, adding poetry to a life exploring metaphor.
Taking my fingers from the pie,
I tasted the sweetness of the juices,
With thoughts of the lovely baker,
Flooding my senses.
Lying shivering –no warmth,
Covers useless –so cold, unwrapped arms, untouched legs useless,
No touch to comfort me.
Afraid of the idea of why…
Seized by hunger for love’s nourishment,