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.