Nothing But Love
In the palm of my hand I cradle your breast.It rises gently as you draw your breath.Wide-eyed with expectation you look at me
Though neither of us knows what we’re doing,Only that it feels as if attentionMust now be desire’s innermost secret,
Everything else excluded from livingIn anticipation of mutual graceAlready so tentative we hardly dare.
Why should this time be any different?Lust is everywhere and always the same.We know what we’ll find at the end of this line.
But different it feels as our bodies exploreAn unknown veer on a familiar roadLeading we no longer know where or when
Though, of course, we wearied of it long ago.But now our weariness spills out of us,Flows and flows of rapture taking its place
We know will dry up come the light of dayWhen our watching will return to concedeThe suspicion it was nothing but love.
In the palm of my hand I cradle your breast.It rises gently as you draw your breath.Wide-eyed with expectation you look at me
Though neither of us knows what we’re doing,Only that it feels as if attentionMust now be desire’s innermost secret,
Everything else excluded from livingIn anticipation of mutual graceAlready so tentative we hardly dare.
Why should this time be any different?Lust is everywhere and always the same.We know what we’ll find at the end of this line.
But different it feels as our bodies exploreAn unknown veer on a familiar roadLeading we no longer know where or when
Though, of course, we wearied of it long ago.But now our weariness spills out of us,Flows and flows of rapture taking its place
We know will dry up come the light of dayWhen our watching will return to concedeThe suspicion it was nothing but love.