Lance's poetry to me
This is a poem he wrote, unbeknownst to me, for a poetry club of which he was a member. He showed it to me the night he wrote it, 12/11/98, asking my permission for sharing it with others. Once you read it, you will understand why I was overjoyed to allow him to share this work.
REMEMBER?
Some memories stay fresh.
It is our first night.
We stand facing,
Inches apart and leaning.
Against all wisdom
I turn the music up
And step in close
In this erotic dance.
Patterns and lines,
Circles and waves,
Fingers and tongue
Down the front of you.
Hearing your breath.
Feeling you quiver.
Touching and tasting.
Senses overloading.
Everything I wished,
Hoped, and dreamed
Pressed tightly to me
And sweetly moving.
Throbbing pulses,
Our bodies shake,
Shiver, and sweat.
A tiny bit of death.
Collapsing together
In afterglow, in love.
I want you to know
It could have been today.
(C) Lance W. Peterson, 1998
THURSDAY POEM
I was sitting in front from her.
Her spouse was on the left.
She and I played "footsie"
Exciting but not sufficient.
Dropping a spoon I bent
Under the nearly full table
And ran my fingers up her leg.
Smiling at her shiver
Returning to upright
Before curiosity triumphed
And brandishing my spoon
As evidence of my design
To our small gathering
And other dining patrons.
(C) Lance W. Peterson, 1998
There are others, and if I can locate them I'll post them here. Hope you enjoyed these pieces of him, and a glimpse into the life and love we shared.
WIP
Some memories stay fresh.
It is our first night.
We stand facing,
Inches apart and leaning.
Against all wisdom
I turn the music up
And step in close
In this erotic dance.
Patterns and lines,
Circles and waves,
Fingers and tongue
Down the front of you.
Hearing your breath.
Feeling you quiver.
Touching and tasting.
Senses overloading.
Everything I wished,
Hoped, and dreamed
Pressed tightly to me
And sweetly moving.
Throbbing pulses,
Our bodies shake,
Shiver, and sweat.
A tiny bit of death.
Collapsing together
In afterglow, in love.
I want you to know
It could have been today.
(C) Lance W. Peterson, 1998
THURSDAY POEM
I was sitting in front from her.
Her spouse was on the left.
She and I played "footsie"
Exciting but not sufficient.
Dropping a spoon I bent
Under the nearly full table
And ran my fingers up her leg.
Smiling at her shiver
Returning to upright
Before curiosity triumphed
And brandishing my spoon
As evidence of my design
To our small gathering
And other dining patrons.
(C) Lance W. Peterson, 1998
There are others, and if I can locate them I'll post them here. Hope you enjoyed these pieces of him, and a glimpse into the life and love we shared.
WIP
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