Idyllic

I wrote this about 23 years ago, there is actually a second page to it that continues the story; however, I seem to have misplaced it. I will post it if I can find it, in the meantime, from a once young girl’s dream of love and passion. Youth can be so beautifully saturating.



My Sweet Lover; a dream for me.

The sun has begun to set,
The sky is changing before me,
And I envision the evening to be a similar burst of colors.

4:00 p.m.
And I am standing in the shower,
The water is cool, yet it feels as though it burns my skin,
My mind, heated in the thought of your arriving shortly.
I take my time, allowing the water to caress me,
And I’m dreaming of you, dreaming of your kiss, dreaming of your touch,
And the water seems somehow jealous of how much wetter you make me.

4:30 p.m.
And I am lying on my bed,
Soft rays of dawn creeping over my naked body, still moist.
I take the scented lotion beside me and gently squeeze until rivers of white silk dance in the remaining light.
And I dream that it is your hand slowly rubbing the lotion in,
Slowly moving across my thighs, slowly moving across my stomach,
Slowly moving across my breasts, until the nipples harden beneath my fingers,
Closing my eyes, a moan of anticipation escapes my lips,
And the lotion seems somehow jealous of how much silkier you make me.

5:00 p.m.
And I am setting the table,
The smell of flowers and heady wine seem to intoxicate me,
And I dance with the shadows cast form the candlelight,
Wondering if you’ll enjoy removing what little I wear.
My hair, like rose petals, surrounds me, falling softly upon my shoulders,
My skin, still flush from earlier dreams,
Seems to glow more delicately than the golden gown that hangs like honey on my skin,
And the wine seems somehow jealous of how much more intoxicating your kiss is.

5:30 p.m.
And I hear your car door close as if awoken from a dream,
I gasp, surprised by the stumble of my heart,
I stand quietly in the candlelight, as if frozen in this moment.
I can feel you walking closer to me, yet I cannot move,
I can smell you; I can taste you in the air, surrounding me,
I can’t even breathe.
You don’t say a word, but I hear the moan escape your lips, and I feel the desire in your eyes,
And the candles’ fire seems somehow jealous of the heat radiating from our bodies.

A similar burst of colors.

__________________
you can tell them all you want but it won't matter until they think it does

p.s. I contradict my contradictions, with or without intention, sometimes.