Melt Me Like Snowflakes
Temperatures fall on this late September day
She paces, thousands of times, back and forth
along with the soft sounds of Lionel Ritchie playing
in the old sitting room,
the room where they spent many a night
lying in front of a wood burning fire
sipping wine and sharing plans and dreams,
she peers out the large casement window
in hopes to see
if the mail had been delivered
if there was a letter for her
he was usually there by now
but the snow must have slowed him down
finally he has arrived.
That long walk to the end of the drive
bundled in her warmest jacket, scarf wrapped tightly
underneath her pure white ear muffs
wearing anything and everything
to keep the elements at bay.
finally she arrives
Her heart races, and with one peek, she smiles
grabs that letter and just cant wait
closes her eyes and holds it close to her face
she can smell his musk
she can imagine his soft touch
delicately she opens it up and reads :
My beloved
I long for the night when we can be together
to run my fingers through that silky hazel hair
tread my kisses down your neck
rub my hands across your soft toned olive skin
to slowly and passionately kiss you
like a real woman needs to be kissed
My beloved
I can't wait for the days I can hold you tight
when I can protect you
pamper you
make sweet love to you
My beloved
You are in my every thought and in my dreams
I think of you before I sleep
and again when I wake
I can picture those salty almond eyes
gazing into mine
until the end of time
My beloved I shall return to you shortly
I L U
I'm Yours Forever
Tears slowly fall down her blushed cheeks
The cold no longer bothers her
and her sated heart and the snowflakes begin to melt
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
