Petal soft the feel of youthful skin,

warm, pliant, sensuous to the mind,

thrill of human purrs, in reply.

Exchange of subtle moves and lips

that meet as if by magic, in their welcoming.

The years turn round the warming sun.

The magic is still there but so is gravity.

Eyes tell lies to finger dreams

but lips are still as soft as velvet memories.

More setting suns, more loving thoughts.

Hair that blooms in white, an opened bud.

Wrinkles, the hiding place of happy mirth.

A word of love as welcome now as ever was

and gentle acts that fill the loving years.

 

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, December  1999   
(A sonnet written for Liz’s 63rd birthday.)