Two innocents perched on an old stone wall,
a scent of honeysuckle cushioned words softly spoken
during a never-ending night.
Sensual touches stirred a new planet of emotion
witnessed solely by the eye of the moon.
Exquisite sweet tension enveloped a lingering embrace,
mellifluous music melded bone to bone,
the kundalini rivers merged, rumbled and rolled
beneath the aurora borealis, a purple valentine in the evening sky.
We had a great run, always turned a blind eye to omens of change,
artfully moving as one, a celestial bubble floating around Venus.
Dancing to the hurdy-gurdy morning glories bloomed all day,
body heat warmed the rain, washed away any morning dread.
On the drive to Saskatoon we harmonized our favorite tunes
until that sleeping driver in a speeding eighteen-wheeler
dancing with his neighbor, sent us on an unplanned journey.
Our hands reached for each other like the hands in the Sistine Chapel,
the hand of man reaching for the hand of God.
Milton P. Ehrlich