A “Valentine,” To My Babe!
“A Book of Verses underneath the bough,
A jug of wine, a loaf of bread--and Thou
Beside me singing in the
Wilderness--Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow.”
(My own singular ambition had been, to create a more simplistic, and still a more intense, preamble.
I took you into the wilderness of the Hiawatha Forest, for twenty-one years and life never got better.
Omar is still the Champ.
It is now, that time of the year to renew verbal characteristics ,,,,,of love.
The hot ‘panting’ of former years, becomes a warm murmur, today.
The frenzied massaging of backs, and, um, other parts, got their share of friction.
.And now, with no chagrin, we share our memories. Some are sentimental, some blatant, a lot of them funny, and some that should be forgotten, but the winding, wistful, withering strength of innovation is no longer needed or challenged. But I keep trying.
The Citadels of our Hearts have withstood all of the negatives.
Our energy is now obsolete. Our strength has finally ebbed. We still have a few feeble qualities left. I can hold your hand, ever so gently. We ‘spoon’ in bed, but only to share our body heat. That is the ultimate of intimacy!
Oh! Thank goodness for memories. How they now satisfy!
Wishful thinking? If only we were able to revive our carpet capers of long ago, in front of the open fire of our Franklin Stove, with red hot sparks, celebrating their freedom, attacking us, demanding our abilities of new-found bodily contortions, never before discovered.
Today, I am fading. It is a soft retreat of mind and body. However, a compromise becomes apparent. My recent memory is null and void. But there is no cataclysm that could cloud my early vision of you, standing on the corner, in the early evening moonlight.
Your radiance dimmed the stars.
“Oh! By the way, will you be my Valentine? ,,,,,,, Again?