A Hand at Love

And when I kissed your lips gently still,
Tilting my head back, drinking my fill,
Ruffling my hands through your downy hair,
Not breaking for a moment, our deep-passioned stare.

Cold air pressed over our shy skin; chattering bones,
Punctuated moments coloured with sky’s changing tones,
Hand in hand, my fingers still rigidly cold,
Can we stay like this until we’re older than old?

Wretched bodies entwined and entangled sinew by sinew,
Etched outlines of life lines as lady history continues,
To stretch and breathe anew the ache of love’s first kiss,
Halted by fear; curious by design; lastingly engendered bliss.

Warmth that begins from deep down inside; burgeoning with joy,
Reposed but electrified by this creative power that destroys,
Gentle moments that impact a lifetime of meaning,
Taking the air from my soul, you keep me breathing.

Blossoms have yet to be kissed so gently by the morning sun,
Young lovers have not learned to conceal the love they’ve begun,
Drinking in passion’s ambrosia, the sweet nectar of youth’s fires,
Tranquility in stolen moments whilst cupid and venus conspire,

Lovers lost in the deepest maze of tender enrapture,
Safe in the lands of love’s perplexing and phantasmic allure,
Hand in hand, our love makes us courageously bold,
Let’s stay! Stay like this until we’re older than old!


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