Down by the river a willow tree grows;
osiers sway gently as autumn breeze blows;
under its branches in peaceful repose,
lying on blanket with my sweetest Rose.
Watching the Martins soar high in the sky;
puffy white clouds that are drifting on by;
living the easy life nothing awry,
passing the day on a natural high.
Afternoon breeze gently blows through her hair;
green are her eyes and her cheeks soft and fair.
Whispers of love with each other we share;
tempting our passions this autumn affair.
Kisses that graciously dance ‘cross her lips;
pondering passions as our hearts eclipse.
Hands reaching gently encircle my hips;
pulling me closer, we’re losing our grips.
Hearts beating quickly too rapid to speak;
coming together as our passions peak;
lying on blanket so spent and so weak
‘neath the old willow tree down by the creek.
September 8, 2018
Categories:
osiers, autumn, love, sensual,
Form: Rhyme