Midnight Appraisals

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From the anthology, Complaining to the Clock, a work in progress. Poets worth their "salt" have a spiritual insight into all things: good and evil, life and death, and can tap into the "spirit realm." There is no law in the partaking of salt.

Thus, salt has tastes that sometimes suits the desires of the palette, and sometimes makes bitter an expected taste that should have been sweet.

I wrote this at the midnight hour, requiring 45 minutes.

My next poem will not be published at this site. Because frankly, the poem will not meet the community standards here. And that is a good thing for all concerned. So, it will brazenly be published by poet, Harry Pim on FB. Thanks to him.

Midnight Appraisals The overhead street lamp was our only illumination, As night shielded our concealed touchings within the moment, Yet we saw light in the eyes of the stars as they watched us, Peering at lips pressing past eyelids in the shrouded darkness, There was music inside the shadings, along with hot breathings, Made for the late embracing hours of our youthful yearnings, With astonished meanderings and midnight appraisals of young lickings, We first saw the highlands of our explorations in the mindless kissings, We first realized the apex of our desires in the brazen lovemakings, With the closing of our minds and hearts, surrendering to the moment.

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