Tell me a story
about you and me.
Making love at the base
of a one-hundred year old tree.
Is the smell of springtime in the air?
The grass damp from morning dew?
Do people see us?
Do they stop and stare?
At the friction between me and you.
Is it high summer?
Does the sun dance off our naked skins,
does the gentle breeze blow away our sins?
Are we sweat and lust and hunger for more?
Giving in to passion`s lore.
Or is it autumn?
Do we lie entangled in a mass of leaves,
kissing, loving, carefree?
It doesn`t matter to me.
Because no matter what season,
Spring, Summer, Fall or Winter,
It will always be you and me,
making love under the one-hundred year old tree.