No yellow wood (pastiche)

Paths don't diverge (there is no yellow wood),
So I am pleased that we can travel both
Yet, not journey too far, for every move
Will bring us closer - your depth in my groove;
Lips spread round cock with its fine growth;

You'd take this lover: am I plain or fair?
And do I have, perhaps, the loving game:
Where it's not grassy, but the silk sheets bear
A loving load, once we have cum on there?
We wear them slowly out, with our shared aim:

That, by the morning, equal we will lie,
Exhausted with the pillows on the floor
And spanks you've gifted must make me ask why
I'm not black-blue all over - you can sigh
Then make me shudder so, right at the core,

Until I doubt that I could come again
And cry out loud. You give me recompense
As ages pass. You, gradually, regain
Divergent paths you'd merged, for you remain
Assured it has made all the loving difference.

(after R Frost)