Our Moments

Flutes and Panpipes
                  Our Moments
Springtime’s been gone
Almost ages ago
The frolicking in the
Golden field of dreams
Picnicking in abandon to twilight
Whispering dreams of love eternal
Tender kisses caring  touches
The last breath of sweet cool air
Fragrant scent wind warped into hot
Sweaty damp funky summer days
Into more naked steamy nights of desires
Sensual sounds of want more inside you
Naked passion grotesque tight embraces
Kindled by the solar winds kiss blown by the
Love gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus
Fanned by the music of satyrs and fauns
The flutes the pan pipes of longings
Fulfilment in a transitory summer heat
A purging of an intense desire to lust
And lustrate and settle into the nascent cool wisps
Of autumn breeze reminisce the tender cotton soft
Warm moonlit nights in past wintertimes with you
With you walking the sunny golden field of dreams
With you fond memories of the fragrance of springtime
Our passion our loving our dreams our joy our moments
Photo: Aphrodite Eros Pan
Credit: Mark Cartwright

Summer heat and the field of dreams

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Robert L. Martin
about 1 year

Beautiful pictures require beautiful words.

Robert L. Martin
about 1 year

Holly smokes. Can I steal (I mean borrow) some your metaphors again?They were beautiful. Wish I would have dreamed some up myself. When I do someday, I can call myself a true poet

Nelson D Reyes
Nelson D Reyes
about 1 year

Mi casa es su casa. Nothing I wouldn’t share with you.

Quite a read isn’t it? Glad you liked. Maybe the lead photo has a lot to do with this one?

Thanks Robert.

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