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Poem

It started off simple enough - a peck on the cheek.
(nothing tantalizing by any means)
But then she did that delicious something

... that made my whole body weak.

And before any could protest,
with their carefully organized rebuttals,
all Common Sense ran for the hills,

but I was already at the peak
with knees still eager for the bend,
and eyes on high alert
for her nature's next flirt.

A well-made umbrella (just in case)
when my Curvaceous Cinderella cascades
with her rain of buttons

(Mr. Frankie S. never would have guessed
this kind of monsoon)

... and everything just begins to bloom
in vibrant color.
When she does that delicious something
it is like none other.

And my inner being just melts;
an ice cream cone
on a summer sidewalk      sugar streams
trailing wherever they may,
as ants find their natural attraction,
a similar thing takes place
with an altogether different kind of animal.
And I'm absolutely gung-ho
to wherever it may go.
When she does that special something,
and the Seraphim of old begin to sing,
it's like a gaggle of goosebumps flooding the surface area
honking their satisfaction;
saliva-esque rivers to nourish a barren wasteland.
Life has sprung deliciously anew
in my surprising thoughts of you.

She takes me by the hand
to the precipice of my prudishness
as a light evening breeze (her whispering tease)
upsets my balance -
and victory over vertigo - I jump

into everything
into nothing

When she does
that delicious something.

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