A poem for mon petite fleur
Perhaps it is my thirst for you,
A cold place within me that craves
The warm glowing energy from you.
That radiates like a potbelly stove
When you smile your real smile.
Not the one in which you disguise
Your soul, a very worn suit indeed.
Years of practice do not vanish easily.
We hide from each other under layers of fear
Only real soul to soul energy freely given can heal
One who wraps in layers of soft blanket
Yet desperately wants something substantial.
Willing to settle, just for now, for reflection of self,
While fiercely craving the touch of another.
The tightly wound coils of the spring inside me
Have slowly unwound and left me less time
Knowing now that the earthy term, FOREVER
Might now be measured in weeks, months or more,
No matter, I will share all that I have left.
Freely cooling the burning lust I feel
For things long transposed by time.
But there still is a glow inside me. too
It is not wrong to stretch out your fingers
And capture me while I'm still within your reach.
I will treasure for eternity every second
We spend together, Mon Petite Fleur.
I will sip your scent rolling it sensuously
Over the well worn sensors of my soul FOREVER!