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)