I Thought of This As I Passed In The

Hallway And You Looked Up

While Drying Off After Stepping Out Of

Your Sunday Shower

in a lover's eye one can see something, perhaps, a glint of the potent

beauty we all long to be when we giddily cast our fate to the whims

of desire, and even if we have never pranced high stepping at the front

of satisfaction's parade most of us have nevertheless stood close

enough to the drumming to reflect the shudder of sensuality coiled

within the trembling of impatient flesh awaiting the release of touch

who needs to apologize for feeling good, for opening the soul

to the bliss experience, especially when we consider our hearts

observe neither stopwatch not timetable upon tasting the sincerity

sweet of a tear or two when a special person voluntarily confesses

their resolve to attempt to be better than the frailty we all inevitably are

whenever carrying the ball of contradictions commonly called love

in this briefness we transubstantiate, visit the angelic state whose reaching

we humans are capable of grasping but oh so seldom achieve

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