May I write you poetry?

Or will that leave you blushing?

As my source of industry,

I'd rather have you brushing

perfect hands upon my skin;

instead of just this static

image, whose unchanging grin

makes all the more emphatic

my desire to possess

your whole: body, mind, and soul.

I imagine your caress—

although, lacking self-control,

I seem to have forgotten

what you look like wearing clothes,

as well as what they taught in

Sunday school, about all those

vices and other nonsense,

but I still remember how

to praise God's holy name; hence,

His (your) glory I avow

fervently, with feverish

abandon in my rapture—

but I digress. My one wish

would be that I might capture

from you all the brightest joys

as well as share your deepest

sorrows. This distance destroys

nothing of our love; steepest

mountains make the effort more

rewarding in the end. You

are my greatest triumph, for

you helped me to ascend to

the pinnacle of my life,

my spirit raised above me

in spite of all mortal strife.

I contemplate how lovely

ev'ry moment together

has been: each ray of sunshine

as well as foulest weather

has only helped to entwine

our fated futures ever

more in unity. I know

that I have seen forever

in the deep dark blue below

the surface of your sparkling

eyes, and it seems so very

promising. What hopes we cling

to may be temporary,

or perhaps our blessings will

continue, although we must

be nearing our limit. Still,

in you I am wont to trust

and do not think you the type

who would betray my faith by

any petty thing; and ripe

are we to finally try

our hands (or whatever else

may strike our fancy) at this

warm embracing love which melts

our reticent frost. We miss

what we know exists: pleasure,

both psychic and physical,

which, though it has no measure,

is not hypothetical.

TMK 20nov2008