Metaphysical Conversations

Metaphysical Conversations
Or, To His Quiet Mistress

It’s true, my love, that we have shared our youth,
And with our words created such a bond
That we have no more secrets – all is truth –
And love’s not in our tongues but far beyond.

But when we need not speak a single word
To know the other’s mind – could swiftly chalk
Upon a board the thoughts that, with ours blurred,
Will flee the other’s lips – what’s left to talk?

Our youthful conversation’s running dry:
No secret valleys shape familiar wits;
All married couples find discussion dies:
I’ve found in time your ring no longer fits.

So why be so surprised I’ve found another?
You’ve always known I live but to enthrall,
With metaphysics, oh so many others:
God gave us mouths to chatter, after all!

And her I meet: my tongue is always busy
To probe and feel the secrets of her mind;
Our talks get so intense we grow quite dizzy:
There’s so much of each other yet to find!

Our conversations surge like flashing floods:
No earthly storm has ever run so wet!
Her wit’s most secret valley’s secret bud
I've plucked, and still it grows and tempts me yet!

I can’t predict what words will flee her lips,
Nor scratch her thoughts with chalk upon a board:
Such metaphysics, unfamiliar, grips!
Such intercourse just cannot be ignored!