Something About Music


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You whistle Greensleeves
while you cook, this autumn night.
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Do you know my inner being
is swirling around you?
Can you feel my desire
for our joining?
Is the kaleidoscope of my
memories visible to your spirit?
My love for you wraps tenderly
around your dear familiar form.
~ ~ ~
You move peacefully about the kitchen,
your delicious lips pursed in music;
I can feel them urgent upon my own.
You open the oven, and I remember
you sweetly opening me, and stoking
my own fire as I awakened yours.
You carefully fit the long fillets in the skillet,
and I think of the entrées to come ...
~ ~ ~
Ah, Greensleeves;
as my eyes trace your quiet steps;
with melting love, my ardent musing sips;
and oh, how gentle is that sound
from your honeyed lips.
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~ ~ ~
(Love poem to my wonderful husband.)
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