Inspired by Guaj – when we discussed North Kent, Colleges, and girlfriends (HERE).
It was longer, but survived some sensible pruning.
This is about the girl on the bus….
Once upon a time …
Hand in hand – on top deck –
plotting a tryst.
Her enchanting breath in my ear
and a kiss
to seal the pact…
Away from college –
footpath at Sarre.
Heart in my mouth…
She and I – hand in hand.
Her with those long
skinny bare legs,
and the diaphanous white blouse
that the sun
could see straight through…
Long blonde hair – curls about.
onto my arm,
and the delicious tickling
on my skin –
my true love true…
Blue court shoes – matte with dust.
matching my pace,
and the excitement of lust
she and I
both felt, both knew…
Dry gold hay – stacked up high.
Lips as sweet as
pink, candy, floss,
soft breasts to vellicate my tongue,
hands that sought
to touch me too…
Sweet moist dew – slick and smooth.
And in that place
where passion flies,
she gave, unsullied, and free,
…so brand new.
Very nice to know I inspired a poem, Allen. this is a well described tale of young lust I could almost smell the herby perfume of fresh cut straw. You created a delicious scene.
Unfortunately I never had the pleasure of a roll in the hay . . . well I did, with my two cousins in their dad’s barn, but it was a far more innocent game of cowboys and indians using straw bales as cover from imaginary bullets and arrows.
Hi Guaj, and thank you for reading and commenting. I did the cowboys and indians thing too, but a few years before my Monday to Friday bus trips.
‘Tis true, there is something special about the aroma of fresh cut/crushed straw – especially in the heat of Summer.
Never thought I would see “vellicate” used in this sense. Brilliant!
Thank you Bhi. I’m not sure if you meant that that the use of ‘vellicate’ was brilliant, or the poem. (*wink*) I guess you know another three syllable synonym that I could have used here, but it would have been a bit of a pun and ruined the atmosphere. 🙂
Allen, you definitely do not want to ruin the atmosphere! Reminds me when I worked on a farm doing irrigation during the summer vacations; used sit at the top of a sloping field side by side with the farmer’s daughter, artichokes in full bloom spreading down below us. The warmth of the flesh, the scent of the damp earth, the commingling – moments to treasure.
BTW, both the use of vellicate and the poem – top notch
Reminiscent of Cider with Rosie. Skilfully crafted, Allen,
To have you say that, Luigi, is an honour. I am really appreciative of your reading and commenting.