Here's to the afternoon
we lay hidden in the folds
of the yellow hay
in my uncle's old barn
on his farm in Georgia.

Your hungry eyes
roamed my naked body
as we rolled around
in each other's arms
on that hot summer day.

Not a care in the world,
as I, your willing victim,
and you, my charming Romeo,
had our way with each other,
and then, we had it again.

Ours was a passionate love,
boiling hot as a kettle
set on the fire,
steaming with pleasure
only the two of us
could create.

And when you touched me,
my whole being would melt
like ice on a bed of coals,
and I would welcome
your tender caresses.

For this was the season of seasons,
when time stood still,
and only you and I existed
in that glorious moment
of love and harmony.

Now, looking back,
from our place on the porch,
creaking along in our rockers,
watching the grand kids play,
I realize that we had it all,
once upon a time.

But we still have it, we do,
you and me.  Two old souls
aged like good wine
ready for the testing.
Yes indeed.  We still have it.
The barn twinkles in the distance.