Mapmaker
We lie besweated together on our bed, our battlefield.
Where never and always victory and defeat are given or siezed.
Long years of exploration have not yielded up even tiny bits,
Of the complicated and beautiful continent of thy naked form.
The mountains of thy young and jutting breasts still rise in age,
Baby chewed and lovely, no stretchmarks mar their glad appeal.
Stretch marks nay, but service stripes on thy fleshly uniform.
I can only gaze and wonder where the shape of thy thighs will lead.
I chart still the swell of these velvet buttocks and the sharp valley there.
To draw a map of thee would charge a cartographer beyond man's ken.
This man knows not how ye change and dwell beside me and tease.
Perhaps the eyes of love see clearest for mine eyes see thee uncharted.
Lie besweated with me and glory in the joy of being each others gift.
Where this page wanders, I know not nor care, I wander with thee.
Parchment and pen and scribners tools I cast away to seek thy lips,
To kiss and find a new land to explore unknown and familiar to me.
Tell me thou lovest me and heaven be found and death doth not bring fear.
Copyright © William Kershaw | Year Posted 2011
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