I traveled many eons to find him through time,
This precious man---Lover of mine.
My eyes cannot feast enough on his beautiful face,
Because the word handsome--is not in the race.
When he combs his fingers through his thick-wavy-black hair,
My hand follows his without--a care.
Then, he held me close as his dark eyes sparkled and glowed,
Like warm fingertips his eyes caressed my face--and in his eyes his love showed.
His lips are the master of mine,
His lips sweet nectar takes me to Heaven to live in another time.
I never want another---because this man--is divine.
And his lovemaking is so incredibly fine.
I wrote this poem in 2012 in the ER--I sprain my ankle playing basketball.
© 2022 Barbara Purvis Hunter