You left for work so early,
I had not even gotten awake.
The way that we made love last night
simply took my breath away.
Ever since we've been together,
you've always left me feeling like this.
That lingering taste of pleasure
sitting gently on my lips.

When I saw you there this morning,
asleep in afterglow, serene.
I thought even after all this time,
each night with you, I’m sweet sixteen.
Your seed still in my garden,
planted by the man I love;
I ached so deeply just to wake you,
I’m still on fire, my strong beloved.

No inclination to leave our bed,
I knew I'd miss your scent.
In a hurry to shave and shower
for that damn meeting at ten.
My thoughts are all distracted
by the way you moved your hips.
My face heats at the sound of my name
whispered from your lingering lips.

The way you held my gaze,
your every inch, so deep inside.
Our bodies writhed pulsating rhythm.
You are moon. I am your tides.
As my waves crashed all around us,
me, breathless in our undertow;
your strong arms held me so tightly.
I begged you, “Daddy, please don’t let go.”

I got into my meeting
but I couldn't clear my head.
My boss keeps droning on,
but Babe, my mind's on you instead.
If they ask me to present
while my thoughts are on last night.
I'm going to get embarrassed, I’m pitching tents, my pants are tight.

Darlin’, I’m crawling through my day.
It’s crazy how you do me in.
Today my heart’s between my thighs.
Husband. Healer. Lover. Friend.
My boss said, “Girl, you’re looking flushed.
Go on home and go to bed.”
You know, I do as I am told.
On your pillow, I lay my head.

Thinking that I had a bug,
My boss sent me back home.
I arrive to see your car, can't wait,
To get you back alone.
My pulse racing as I sprint up the stairs,
And behind the bedroom door,
It seems we had the same exact plan,
Your clothes already in the floor.

You undressed as quick as lightning,
your excitement standing tall.
My legs spread your invitation,
you accept and give your all.
You thrust inside me deeply.
You say my hips have learned new tricks.
If we feel the same tomorrow, Stud;
we’re both calling in sick.


© The Moonlight Bard and Dixie M'Lynn