What I 'Felt' To Say Was...

Moment Of Eternity

After living their entire lives
in a vulgar, putrefied world,
they were both wholly overcome
by the sheer weight of the idea
that the propriety of the moment
still allowed room
for connectedness and sensuality
to exist in the simple
intertwining of their fingers.
Unquestionably,
they both longed
to hear the other's hushed,
yet verdant,
exclamations
for delicate, sensual delights
heretofore undreamt of
in their turbulent, coarse pasts,
but this instant was more.
Their souls vehemently opposed
any idea that they could ever part,
for they both shamelessly indulged
the feeling that past indiscretions,
and future transgressions
did not exist.

Certainly,
she did contemplate the presence
of her desire
to taste the robust wine of his lips,
to become intoxicated
by the virile scent of his perspiration. 
She ached for him to drive
the most intimate sensations
of her eroticism,
to force her lust
to a complete abandonment
of all inhibitions,
wailing in delight,
but definitively,
above all else,
her innermost desire
was simply
to feel his enveloping arms
surrounding her,
to experience the sheer bulk
and stability of him
with her forever.

Yes, his hands ached
to flood all her gentle curves
with a tsunami of inquiry,
his mouth hungered to taste
her multitude of flavors,
and his wayward eyes longed
to dance over her smooth skin,
but, ohhh!...
ever so much more than that
he reveled
in the humble scent of her skin
and how a stray lock
of her auburn hair,
dancing joyously in the subtle breeze,
painted his neck
with the heated sensations
of an August afternoon,
as his mind enchanted him further
with thoughts of sharing his life
completely with her.

They lay for a fleeting eternity
on the soft leaves,
never acknowledging
caterpillar or squirrel,
her cheek resting easily
on his shoulder,
fingers enmeshed,
and breathing together,
neither one dared
disturb the other all afternoon,
both clinging desperately
to the obvious delusion
that this could be
a perpetual moment.

Ahh, but yet it was perpetual,
for the vivid memory would remain
beyond a lifetime
in the secreted, starlit caverns
of their minds. 
This endless moment,
when all seemed as it should be,
was destined to be recalled often
during gentle, smiling moments
alone with their thoughts,
and passionate moments
surging with lust, anger, or betrayal. 
It would not only witness
the consecration of their marriage,
but would haunt them
at unexpected times
like the birth of a child
or while discussing mundane work. 

So too, would this snippet of time
carry them out
of desperately morose periods,
for in this moment they learned
that they were not merely
objects adrift,
entirely at the mercy
of the vagrant whims of the wind,
destined to suffer
at the sole discretion
of incalculable accidents. 
Rather, they learned
they were integral pieces
of something larger,
something with purpose,
with intent. 
It was marvelously profound
to behold such simplicity,
such complexity,
and it would sustain them
for an eternity,
for through this everlasting moment
they both found faith
that life was inherently good.

*but then the author was told
"poetry is about simplification",
so he changed it to
"They enjoyed a beautiful afternoon in the woods."
**then he was told "poetry is
about great words you rarely
hear", so he changed it to
"Post meridian amorousness."
***then he was told "poetry is
about rhyming", so he changed it
to "Lovely Lovers Loving."
****then everyone was quiet
and he knew he had written some
REALLY GOOD POETRY!
*****them he remembered the
best poets had lots of problems so
he left his wife, got drunk to
celebrate, and died in a car
wreck. Happily.

a/n: I'm not aiming that last bit at anyone but myself and my inclination to continually rewrite things that work or point out other's mistakes.
Just a chuckle that needed a place to live!