Tasting Tomorrows.


Tasting Tomorrows....Swallowing Yesterdays


Somewhere stretched

across the slats

of a wooden bench,
possibilities could

be fleshed out,
you sitting next to me,
in the wood smoked

scent of Autumn,
leaves tumbling all

around as I

fall for you,
fingers weaving

a quilt together
that warms our hearts,
lips just brushing,

and tasting tomorrows,
eyes wet with

wonder and delight,
as we simply chat

about ourselves
to each other till

the sunset beckons
me to move on,

away from the empty park,
limbs as empty

as the trees,
while you sit

somewhere else,

still an illusion,
I have yet

to realize.










Beach Bumming!

What a day

at the beach,
salt tanged and

snow cone-licious
coconut scented

and never too

bored to boogie,

Buried in the sand,

till the fat lady
stepped on

my wing-wang,
and Stacey laughed

so hard she
slipped in the surf

and sand wedged

her bottom good.

Long slow 

succulent kisses on

the sun warmed towels,
eyes that radiated love

so passionately mine,
shadowing my face

beneath delicate wet curls.

Some belly slams

and shell dives,
then a long walk

down the beach
till we thought

we'd never get back.

Hand in hand

we found a way,
ice cold bites of a Pepsi
trickling down

our parched throats,
as the orange

and red curtain fell.

Sadness tinged

our next glance,
on August 31st,

our last vacation

day together,
as Summers end sat

down between

us with a sigh.








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Comments 2 comments

Micky Dee profile image

Micky Dee 6 years ago

Now we must Spring into Summer. We Autumn to forget our Winter of dis-continence!

Artamia profile image

Artamia 6 years ago from GTA, Canada

• Great poetry like yours has no seasons....

no matter how nostalgically beautiful it is !!!

I feel Tarkovskiy could make a great film from

your visions.... expressed so poetical !!!

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