The greedy fingers of the past,
Clutched at the denial within.
The buried memories rising,
Pushing at my resolute determination,
My need to remain in the present,
To live with the promise of a better future.
Hesitant light glows warmly from the hearth fire,
I rise from our dishevelled bed,
Admiring the dwindling, flickering light,
Its glow caressing my woman’s careless nakedness.
Cloaking the softness of her curves,
Creating alluring, accentuating, shadows.
Mild spring night slipped through the open window.
Fragrant scent mingling with sweat-laced-perfume,
The heady aroma reminding me of sweet evenings,
Of soothing music and gentle talk by the fire,
The simple comfort of love held in my arms.
The press of mutual desire, teasing kisses,
Pleasantly lingering, sharing contentment,
While sultry glances from knowing eyes,
Such subtle avoidance, deny all access to:
The greedy fingers of the past.
© Copyright 2017 PaulChafer. All rights reserved.
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