Cool Comfort

by on August 23, 2012 :: 0 comments

Not tepid,
Not cold,
More like that first breath
Of April air,
After a shut in Winter
That rattled the panes
And brought aches
With every scratch.

This is cool comfort,
You to me
No brain frozen delight,
No fetch the sweaters moment,
Just thee and me
Wrapped in a minute
No one else could deliver.

The young will fuss
Over marks and lines,
Bemoaning their lost perfections,
But I will be sassy nude with you,
Boldly sagging and bagging,
Knowing you love the imperfections
As much as I love
Your silvered treasures,
And the deep lines that show
When I give you forbidden delight
As only we know how.

editors note:

Aged to perfection, this mutual confection. We learn to make sweet an’ it just gets sweeter. Nice! – mh

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