With sweat starting to form on my forehead on this hot and humid evening, my concentration on this passionate embrace was broken when my spouse squealed in delight: “Oh Dean!” Who is Dean?
He fell to his knees and they cracked under his weight.
Above him the sky burned on.
If you don’t like drama, you best be movin along then there, boy. Because we got a lot of it comin…
He liked to play Monopoly and she grew up playing Scrabble.
They knew they had different priorities, different dreams, and probably different futures, but for now they weren’t playing the game of Life – they were just having a little fun, savoring the taste of each other’s lips and the warmth of one another’s bodies here and now in the lust of the moment.
As we huddled next to the fire, our huddling turned to closeness which turned to kissing which turned to extreme kissing which turned into a night of passion.
I confess I brought on that ice-age so you’d huddle with me.
When first married, passion’s fire so hot, never the lovemaking did you scrimp.
Twenty years later, the embers are cold, and poker limp.