You step through my door like the first date of
my life every time,
bearing charm and brawn and sweet
you scent of fresh Vermont maple and I, sparkle,
blushing at you each time you humbly
disembark at my door;
I wonder if you witness this, with your
soft, squinty, western-blue eyes,
what my dark almost intimidated essence reveals.
As much as I wish to confess all to you,
passionately overcome by honesty,
and lured by your attentive, eyebrowing, calm-lipped gaze;
I fear my past, my words, my actions, myself;
And when you touch, kiss, caress me,
with promises of respect, trust and undeniable friendship, my brain faints,
spilling admiration and desire
pushing my composure into a haunted house.
You are sweeter than honeysuckle smells;
sweet as pure cane sugar, and as salty as
a satisfying yearning for a simple sip of seawater;
I crave and sensate you beyond your cognizance, yet
pushing you away for fear I’ll never get enough
and I need to run my fingers through your sunny hair,
continuing down your shivering neck
leading to your heart aching appetite.
Long, powerful hands protect my own, keeping
them warm and moist and steady;
and a robust arm of yours, packaged around
my waist guides me, teaches me, secures me;
Your mouth whispers my skin is soft; your lingering, longing
fingers proves your lips right
and when you lay your head on my breast
I feel feminine, erotic, bashful, strong.
You blew in as a friendly, temperate hurricane
subsiding into an imperative, desired, unfaltered rain;
I flowered, finally into tangible womanhood for you;
you who seems to plainly ache for me;
and intentionally, I vow never to disappoint you,
you who I want to be “future”, and at this stage,
promise to fancy you as long as forever is.