Long Weekend

We began with jazz-
a wicked slapping bassman-
to ales and burgers
and cool mountain air.

The lovemaking began anew.

We rose for bacon and coffee
and lay again, gleefully unwilling
to allow a day- needing an endless
morning to fill our fallen days
and swell our hungry souls.

The lovemaking was a savior.

We danced alone and with friends,
twirling and squeezing
two nimble lovers, willing
to dress and foreshadow our moves,
sharpening our rhythms
to sway and roll in time.

The lovemaking was a dream.

We walked for breakfast,
moving together slow;
bicycled hurtling down bridges, past rivers,
learning histories, finding wonders,
perusing and sampling to
fill our open senses. That night
I sang to her the song
I wrote in honor of her.

The lovemaking was spontaneous joy.

We dined as finely
as could be, the drinks
were made exquisitely.
She was a duchess, I the suitor,
vying for a kiss- then another;
dishes arrived
as sweet and rich
as the duchess deserves.

Then lovemaking halted.

I skidded on a slick of insecurity,
felled by her aplomb and beauty;
I lay weak, intoxicated
by fear into self-torture.
Quickly she rescued me,
pushing away my darkness!
Love returned, redoubled
and continued in the greatest-
the strongest- the worthiest

lovemaking I have ever known.