I am no longer pretty
the firm young flesh of yesteryear,
the boundless energy of youth
are gone but not forgotten.
Night after night
untouched and unmolested
I lie here in my room
but sometimes, as the night descends,
I yearn to feel another's skin pressed close against my own
to touch once more with trembling hands a lover's kindly face
and kiss his mouth and breathe his breath,
look deep into his eyes;
to smell and taste the redolence engendered by arousal;
to know again the tingling twitching touch of someone's fingers
and have my privacy invaded,
oh! such sweet surrender!
Exquisite expectation!
and go exploring as before
with hands and tongue and eager lips
to satisfy my hunger
and, legs entwined around him,
with quickened breath and racing pulse
share the uproarious ecstacy
when wisdom and propriety
are swallowed up by passion
and lust devours all.
Orange Blossom
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