an embrace

lord knows i tried to get out the door...
but your words, my thoughts
made me sit...only to write more.
to think of your eyes of blue
looking at me..
staring at me...
wanting to see into me.
my hands are rough...
my fingers too...
playing across strings...
they touch the frets...
a simple crease should be understood..
my hands...
my fingers...
my mind and all the music it could play
upon your addition...
the chords progression...
yes fingering your satisfaction.
you wonder what would i trace...
maybe just under your lace...
i want your moans to govern the pace.
would you like it in haste?
maybe have you thought...
my beard...could it trace?
could you feel it along your legs...
between your thighs...
could that get you sexually high.

as i said i don't smoke
i don't drink
my drug of choice seems to have been only work.
as i said i don't drink...
well maybe a sips of my single malt scotch...
to toast my heritage...
the bottle i have has lasted more a year...

This old gray bread
would you grip my head ...
and press that beard...
press me
might i smell the woman in thee.
my tongue...
would you think it to roam...
maybe even cocoon..
against, that of your womb.
a virgin...it would be to me
the first time...
we would both be naive...
so many...
they are left that you might fill
tell me of a tale...
of the creature of old...
and her soft skin...
how the two might spin each trait into gold.
where would i trace?
know this
it would begin with the tender of an embrace.