Miss D. Ocean
In the long winters of
my Geographical despair
Land-locked and cold-cocked
from what I love to share
My Miss D. Ocean
my Summer love
always faithfully there
haunting the empty
shell of my soul
How I long for her
like all the women
I‘ve cherished
and I missing already
those warm hollows
where she allows me to lay,
the way she moves against me,
pulling and pushing me
into her salty sprays,
sharing the bright blue cobalt
of her distant eyes,
as she urges me
to float in the cradle
of her undulations,
oooo-oooo-oooo..
I can still taste her tang,
and remember the depths
that I went to in her,
touching her bottom
with my fingers gripping
for purchase against her
flowing arched impulses
grasping and then expelling me
over and over....again
Under the sunshine glowing
so warmly on us,
accompanied by
the soprano sighs of gulls
that match her fervent whispers,
and all my bliss beyond compare
Through all my November's
to my March's towards her
liquid warmth
I exist as a crab
horseshoed in the cubby
of my wood burning stove
Sharing only the placebo fervor
of her moving embrace
My Miss Dee Ocean
mySummer love
always faithfully awaiting
the empty shell of my soul.
Art~Whimsically Yours Studio
©-2020-Matthew F. Blowers III
Image by dejavupics81 from Pixabay
