Blame it on the -------------------------------------------
The moon is buxom bare before my dreams tonight.
A mirror to reflect fire a lovely fire
But so pale and without true heat
Not like you who bakes me
wake from languor’s embrace
yet I am too quick to rise to your touch
for the rush of blood
has me so
Close to swooning, like a distraught metaphor
drunk on pure poetic vapor
havoc a tremble as the essence of your
blossom infiltrates my lungs.
From an earthbound stance I find that
Tonight the dream is deep-wise
And it’s all about a smile
the more real
for all It’s real
since we are reality you and I and
Oh just so
we are far
far from the shores
of drifting off to sleep
A moist glisten slips across skin
A dollop of honeydew waiting
to lubricate the union of suckle sweet lips
The sparkle of stars in midnight
where we wander the map of eternity
Hands explore the contours of
a young breast
urgent fingers find marvels to unwrap.
We do not live on food alone
When we look back on this night
What will we tell the result of such passion?
We can always blame it on
A lusciously lurid and salacious little romp through the overwhelmingly exciting passions of sexual innuendo with a young lovely. Your a real talent Dale. However you'll never get away with blaming it on the moon you old lech.