Champagne by the Brook

I loved the look in your eyes when you called me lover. So deep, so meaningful, so warm and charming. The hot summer brings a memory of champagne by the brook swimming in those very eyes. The warmth of the days melt away images of snow angels, rose petals, bright red painted toes, your lovely lips burned into my being. Lip to lip excitement and the true feelings of what a woman means, not only to the earth, but to heaven on earth and beyond. Pushed so gently together, melting into another dimension of man and an entire garden of loveliness called... the name I only whisper to the wind.

Sunshine and moonlight, it's only reflection. New growth creates feelings of well being, of understanding just how precious a gift life is with all its wonder and goodness.

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Through the window and beyond the sounds of the fan in the night, you appeared. You were the woman I saw on the beach of my dream. And I went out to see if you were dreaming. Out beyond our normal paths, across the top of dreams in the time zone of the spirit, out where sounds travel and touch, where like may attract like. Ancient becomes present. No need to send the card that fell to the nighttime floor or mind the neighborhood noises out beyond the safety of the womb.

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The picnic basket speaks of a real romance, a lovely sharing of time, temperature, of feeling, food, followed by breakfast in bed from the tray that holds the paper, a drink, flowers, fantasy and kisses.