Poetry

Nothing is changed
Everything is the same
The way you look into my eyes
Still consumes my entire being
Your sweat still steals my heart
As the beads
Formed on your temples
Drop down on my wet apples
As your root cleaves my ground
And draws the water of my soul
Never cease teasing these apples
Let your touch be gentle
Very gentle
Slowly gentle
And occasionally lushly rough
With my fingers locked
Behind your daring loin
Let me choose each crest
And you the depth of each trough
Upon the coming find the deepest
Do not be alarmed
That this has taken too long
Longer than our first time
Or the moment just ago
In the former
You were so scared
And natural naïve
About my caressing care
In the latter
Expressive eagerness
Packed in ill-fated impatience
Prodded your coming
So sail let us
Upon this tide and toil
Hoping you find
The deepest trough
With a restful sigh
Moments upon
The second coming