Take a number and wait until you're called.
Published on March 7, 2007 By dynamaso In Poetry
I Wintered in the valley
Of your breasts
Warm, soft and comforting
They were everything
The shape under your dress
Promised them to be

Spring was in the scented petals
Between your thighs
Heated, honey-dipped and glowing
Responsive to touch
And the passionate yearnings
I had once imagined

The pools we spent in Summer
We carved out of bed
Rocking, swirling, tumbling
In waves of rigid, sweaty lust
Peeling our desire down
Layer by layer

Too soon Autumn came on
No sooner said
Than done, finished and withering
Despite your giving hands
To be replaced by clinical disdain
And a lack of conversation

No amount of Summers
Can make up for a bitter Autumn

Comments
on Mar 07, 2007
Melancholic, sad, and very touching.

I liked this one a lot.
on Mar 07, 2007
And a time for every purpose, under heaven...

...a skillfully poignant evolution. Thanks.
on Mar 07, 2007
San Chonino,

I must admit to being a little obsessed at the moment with the poetic form. I'm really liking it. And I'm pleased you are too.

Don,

a skilfully poignant evolution


Thanks very much.

Whip,

Gotcha...
on Mar 08, 2007
Mark,

Damn. I really liked this one, and though I suck at poems it makes me feel like writing. Keep them coming.
on Mar 08, 2007
God yes! Maybe no amount of summer can make up for the autumn, but, damn, what a summer!
on Mar 08, 2007
Chris,

it makes me feel like writing


Mate, for me, this is a bloody great compliment. Thanks very much indeed.

Ennarath,

damn, what a summer


Whoo yeah. Glad you liked it.
on Mar 09, 2007
I'm ever so amazed at your talent Mark! Wow!!!!!!
on Mar 09, 2007
Serenity,

amazed at your talent


Wow, what a nice thing to say. Thanks very much. My inspiration comes from the amazingly talented people here, yourself included.