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Digs
It was early evening, just as dark won over
and forced the tapered daylight to sink down to the south.
We laid beneath the comforter and kept each other warm,
giggling at nonsense exchanged by means of code.
Back then it was natural to act like silly brats,
lost amongst the promises we'd told to one-another.
The lights we dimmed and music played as we wasted time,
all relaxed and napping off our lust as if it wine.
The sheets would ruffle into waves with every mild turn
as passing cars would light the room and show me her again.
We laid with noses touching and she chose to ask me if
I still thought her beautiful after we had changed.
It seemed absurd to wonder it, but I still had to admit
that she could and always will ignite a flame in me.
And she grinned and stared into my fair and honest gaze,
and told me that she'd loved me so and so much more and ever.
The truth was told and I maintain, the more that she would worry,
the more the curve for me to grasp and navigate by sail.
The more there was to wrap around and sink into and feel,
all the good and for the best for he, like me, who digs it.
