You cannot sleep
As the air is warm
You shower
But to no avail
I suggest that we watch
The Perseid’s pass
From our secret garden
We sit in the damp grass
The sky is our display
There is much entertainment
You touch your breasts
Your nipples are erect
But there is no chill in the air
I kiss you
You smile
And hold me in your gentle arms
We make love
Quietly
And rest under the stars
Song Thrush (August 2016)