LOVE IN THE BARN

It’s your farming, in all weather,
Keeps body, soul, us together.
When our hay harvest’s gathered in,
Our best lovemaking can begin;
Our own harvest celebration
In the barn, our recreation.

I’ve lovingly pump-filled a tub,
Where we can share a rub-a-dub.
The water’s soaped, perfumed with oil
Of plants raised in herb garden soil.
My ‘luscious’ curves you like to feel,
And I the muscles you reveal,
(It was your body, tall and supple,
That made me 'want in' as a couple)
Then we’ll get rolling well away
In our abundant bed of hay.
Amidst this fruit of harvest field
To each other’s desires we’ll yield.

O, that we would conceive a boy,
In this rapturous harvest joy,
Who would be taught to run this farm
And inherit your virile charm!