SERENADE

I, Serenade
blushing with intensity!
playing passions with the pencil and flute
While this quiet disposition -
makes me smile and think - grin
No more are the lips that brand me with their bites and kisses
no more are the assuming souls that smother me 
leave me itchy, like wool 

I bet YOU could leave me refreshed, happy, 
and we could be moving gingerly above it all 
free bare shoulders in white cotton light spring spring
and those
fingertips could delight me, delicately
with
just
one
touch
in the sun- upon our backs
my face upon your chest
or your head upon my lap
stroking strands of hair, 

smearing mud upon our faces
as we travel through the rain and trails and places
up and over tree and rocks
drowning leaves seem to not mind us- our boots and feet
if not smile, as they do and we do
for they know we are two and we are happy.... 

I, Serenade while
Sitting on branches while I twirl my lucky stick, like a baton
it slips from my fingers while we embrace..
A soft breeze or is it you rushing through me
Your lips seem to tremble
as you perhaps hum along.