It’ early morning and the blue Autumn sky,
Smudged with a chalky red,
Fills my window like a painters canvas,
Spilling onto my sleepy bed.
In that sweet rosy light of early dawn,
Lying behind you I stare,
An ivory round shoulder rising before me,
Draped in tangles of hair.
Nestled into my cottony pillow,
I trace the arc of your spine,
Vanishing neath the heavy wool quilt,
Concealing all that is mine.
A half empty goblet of Burgundy wine,
Sits on the window sill,
Reminder of the love we imbibed,
Until we had taken our fill.
I study the skin I so long to touch,
Leaning forward, unable to resist,
Placing in the middle of your silky smooth back,
A soft and gentle kiss.
You stir a bit under my lips,
As I taste you, smooth as cream,
I want so badly to open the door of
Your current secret dream.
Lingering there I breath you in,
Feel my soul join with the sun,
Rising to the heights of heaven above,
Feeling infinitely young.
Suddenly, some discourteous crow,
Screams from his tented tree,
His rude good morning makes you stir
Cuddling back, and into me.
My right hand glides along your waist
And gradually comes to rest,
Slowly sliding along smooth skin,
Cupping your warm round breast.
Indescribable comfort fills me there
As I pull you closer to me,
Folded together like two rose blossoms,
My crease tucked behind your knees.
"Good morning lover, you feel so good,"
You lean and kiss my hand.
"I love the way you press against me,
The texture of a man."
Inconsiderate crow squawks once more,
We shift and join our eyes,
I touch each breast with a moistened kiss
And feel your nipples rise.
Reaching down, you feel me growing and
Caress me with gentle strokes,
If you only knew the inexplicable bliss your
Slender hand evokes.
Our kisses and touches on that Autumn morn
Fell like the floating leaves,
At the right moment, we were both ready,
I slipped into you with ease.
The wool quilt fell from the trembling bed,
Delicious sounds escaped our lips,
You held my shoulders and kissed my neck as
I pressed deeper between your hips.
Possessed by a madness, we wrestled as one
By that window filled with light,
Rising and falling, then coming together as
We had on the previous night.
"My God, this never grows old," I whisper,
"Always something new".
"Let me feel your weight," you purr in response
As I collapse on top of you.
It's still early morning, the blue Autumn sky yet
Smudged with a chalky red,
Filling our window like a painter's canvas,
spilling onto our loving bed.
Michael Bogar
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