PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Too many members of your family had far too much to say

about the length of your profuse curls---cascading over

your collar and to your shoulders.  The elegance of your

new suit---the gray jacket, the matching pinstriped slacks,

perfectly tailored to your slender, youthful body---was

entirely lost to them, fixated as they were on the defiance

you showed toward their long ensconced opinion about your

hair.  Four years ago, when they began to make remarks

(subtle and suggestive at first, then, as their frustration

increased, more and more deliberately hurtful), this surely

injured your feelings; but now, having attained the age of

legal consent just a few weeks ago, its importance just

dwindled away.  So I invited you back to my own residence,

not nearly as luxurious as that other venue; and any doubt

about your acceptance was quietly assuaged by the

need (to love and be loved, according to your soul's given

nature) I discerned in your eyes, and your shyly seductive smile.

Hesitations and inhibitions---which, in certain circumstances,

continue to intrude, even though I was, by then, two and a half

times yours age---failed, for one, to divert or obstruct the

moment, and we discretely abandoned the kinfolk's noisy

gathering.  As soon as you entered the apartment, you asked if

you could remove your shoes (a courtesy, although, I am sure,

you already knew I would not object); then, having done so,

you also tossed your jacket and your necktie aside.  I was

immediately aroused by the beauty of your semi-sheer socks:  the

flawless translucence around your soles and arches, the soft

opacity of the doubled weave that ensheathed your toes and heels.

Although I had long desired, and often anticipated, this

encounter---the swift emergence of our mutual attraction

(especially considering your innate and very youthful beauty,

compared to my own ungainly appearance)---surprised and

pleased me.  As you took off your other clothes, you said

you would like to keep your socks on---making my as yet

unspoken request unnecessary.  As we made love---as I

inhaled and tasted the fragrance and flavor of your socks, and of

your agile and very reciprocative body, you eagerly released

your profuse and glistening sweetness upon and into me repeatedly 

through the remains of the afternoon and its starlit and unhurried 

night---the contours of the next two decades began to approach the

form by which we began, that very next morning to enjoy and to

rely upon them.