Saddled Toward Sunset

you were an unlikely cowboy -
non-smoking
non drinking
every Sunday church going man
riding into the sunset of your life.
"a-sexual", so you said
except for Sunday afternoons
at four; to be precise.
because you had passed thru the valley,
where the lotus blossoms thirved -
wet, with passion juices -
there for the tasting,
all you needed was an ace
to get inside.
and you had had that-
used it, abused it
a hundred time or more
when you wandered away from
the home stable.

that's where i found you 
alone - roaming the desert one night.
beefsteak, itching between your teeth
for a brush, and coffee breathed;
smiling at a familiar face - mine.
oh, the night was just perfect,
coolness just nipping at the edge,
and i welcomed your heart warmed
hand for a time.
i didn't mean to interrupt your solo journey
but you asked for just one more
and my parted lips were
singed; as i tried
to steal a second taste
of that warm, amber sky
in your soul.

my homefires relit.
and i loved the sound of your voice,
coaxing those embers warm -
and the tenderness of your well-worn hands
tending to the chores
of my heartstrings -
i loved when best
when you tried to write in stone:
reasons to sell that saddle -
that i swore every now and then
i caught glowing-
in our fires warmth,
from the corner; where it had become
a piece of my decor.

how many times
did i swear to you
i had peaked over your shoulder
while you were gathering
lotus blossom dew-
and i head heard it still -
calling your name ?