Lovers in the Park
So young, and so obviously their first love,
When their every moment is achingly sexual,
Every touch is tentative foreplay in learning
A passion they cannot imagine diminishing;
Their shyness and limitations melting away
In the heat of their desperate entwining.
If there are seasons to love being learned
They are Spring, beautiful in their becoming
And blooming in the newness of their desire.
If they have not yet made love, they soon will,
And the thought makes my own passion rise.
Poetry by countryfog
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Written on 2011-08-11 at 15:49
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