Sex At Sunset
A kiss is still a kiss…
Not the blindly smitten,
all guns blazing,
frantic fumbling,
jackhammer pounding
sex of twenty.
More subtlety; an alchemy
of flesh and spirit.
Different ingredients:
Lips, nipples, ears,
fingers, tongue, teeth,
applied with precision.
Our bodies are instruments
upon which we compose
long, intense Adagios.
More awareness,
more attention
to the other soul.
A slow gathering.
Deepening dampness.
Long, leisurely moans.
Steady, certain sighs.
More celebration.
Less devastation.
Zephyr not hurricane.
Yet, should you ever
whisper in my ear,
writhe beneath me,
and gasp my name,
intertwined,
intermingled,
two in one,
we could know
things together
the groping young
can’t imagine:
climax of minds,
climax of bodies,
climax of fire,
climax of desire,
climax at the
climax of life.
Attraction/Affection/Perfection.
Passion is ageless.
