LUST

Watercolor by
Pat Morgan

My hand on her heart,

I am more aware of

The rise and fall

Of her breathing chest,

Than the fullness

Of her soft breasts.

Commitment

Is my new lust,

Having the depth of a canyon

Formed over years by a patient river,

Speaking French, where understanding

Comes more from inflection, than translation,

Not waning when wrinkles cross

The canvas of her gentle face,

Lasting gloriously beyond

Our bones and breath.