Warmth in the mind of a lover

Held almost to the end

She could be more than a friend

Close enough to be connected together


Packed like sardines in the tin

Close together in a place so spread about

Lying down with senses tense and lout

Feeling not the world but what they want in


Still position that seems to change

Fluid and gentle, never disturbs

Hair brushes against the cheek of tiny girth

No irritation, just a feeling of that stage


No contact between the eyes

Faces already known too well

The only unknown thing that dwells

When will such a moment turn its head and die?


When will they let it end?

The answer is always never

Nothing would stop the calming fever

In a moment where there is no extra time to lend


Oh! But that point that will always come

Time has a way it likes to flow

It passes so quick in an effort so slow

Sands slip as they go to the run


The act may stop for a moment in time

But the circle goes round again

An everlasting chain

But the slowness of it feels so unkind


Later on it will happen once more

Different person, time or place

All can be replaced

But the feeling is never worn