by Tom Mcmurray

Created on: December 17, 2009

I remember...

when the scent of cherry blossom's
swirled around Pagodas in the park
while little withered women cast their
leering glare at the roll and the rock
of every firm young derriere. Hour after
hour they would stare at healthy bodies
moving to and fro. The younger couples
hurried past the gilded garden gates
to find a shadowed place where young
embrace could quickly bleed release.

I remember...

making love above a mountain teahouse
as the heated light of day gave way,
quite gently, to a chilly mist that
filled the air below the purple shade
of night. Our bodies swayed in thrusting
synchronicity beneath the frosted silver-blue
of blinking stars and endless sky. Reflected
light would dazzle dance across the sweated
dew that curled like pebbeled pearls upon your
naked skin. But time and lust are quickly
dimmed when stolen by the fickleness of
young love's fated winds.

I remember...

no pretenses shared that time or lust belonged
to us because our love was owned in hunger. In the
end as in so many ends our love was lost to whim upon
a random rise of mountain wind. Not to selfish loss
of pleasured passion found within a thin yet joyful
sin. But I remember when the swaying thrusts were spent
and done. We slumbered wrapped up in a glow of love
until the sun was home to celebrate its day and kiss
a rare and splendid night away.

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