by Stephen Yolland

Created on: April 27, 2008

Your arse is massive.
It has been growing, exponentially
since the day we met
cafe bold
talking to strangers
And fell
like tired icebergs
into a warm bed.

I love your arse.
It is the bell-weather
to our life.
As comfort has grown
your shape proclaims it.
Squeezing into jeans
it whispers
"I love you."

Like tweedledum and tweedledee
we roll cheerfully
into the pub.
Our friends greet us
with relieved grins
as you elbow to the bar
smile brandished
money clutched in hand,
arse magnificent.

I gaze,
a man possessed,
at your bottom.
And I will touch it
again, my dear,
tonight.
And all the nights.
Clutching its rich
softness.
Molding it, holding it.
Until the day
when we are but memories.

Colliding barrels
who once bobbed
together
on the sea of life.

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