old school, new school

when life's indictments
are handed down
(if they are)
I hope that I am included
on the docket
that charges some
with adoring You,
from near or from far,
as I have done both,
and presently do continue
to hold You
(and hold You),
most closely,
mostly mostly,
astride my chest,
though positioned
most better the best,
my chin,
to bide my way in,
to seek out,
to employ,
to enjoy,
that sweet nectar
You do sway me,
and I swoon, for You
to have Your way with me,
and then
we bounce,
and we trounce,
and we give everything
a stir,
and You move,
and I groove,
on Your little patch of fur,
and I smile,
all the while,
when You go that extra mile,
and we swing,
and we sing,
and we hold back
not one thing,
and we rock
around the clock,
and the boat never finds
the dock, and we go
and we go
and we go,
for hours,
four hours,
rainbow showers
it's all ours;

and then we subdue,
me and You,
and we take a martini
or two
or three
or whatevah lets us be
You and I,
touching the high of the sky,
passing by the good lord
of love, smiling down from above,

and we recast
and have a repast,
and consider all that we have
and bow our heads in
solemn silence,
to the memory
of all the expelled
of love, tender mercy,
and the gradients


April 26, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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