At Summers Peak
AT SUMMER’S PEAK
Gold champagne and tipsy, the bride unbridled.
Round and round, she stirs with romance under the
moon and stars, a-swooshing. A wedding toast with
bubbles and giggling.
Sheets — warm, tired, impossibly wrinkled, burns her
cheeks at Summer’s peak. And his sweet and sexy
tongue, asleep with dreams, unaware and moaning,
calling out her name.
Honeymooners kiss as he wakes up lips and
neck and this and that. She obeys the rapture
blossoming again in her husband’s trellis —
breathlessly brimming.
8/11/2018
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