An Autumn Night's Dream Poem by James Walter Orr

My limbs are knotted, like an oak,
that stands, devoid of leaves.
I don’t envision or evoke,
an image that deceives.

You lie reclined, so unsurpassed:
oblivious of the view.
Untouched, you watch the clouds move past,
but feelings still accrue.

My arms are refuge for your form;
I watch your eyelids close.
I gently kiss them, as you warm,
and slowly gain repose.

A rhythm in the zephyr’s beat
is trying to compel,
the girl, bulwarked in your retreat,
to venture from your shell.

You lie, pretending that you sleep;
your skirt has blown awry;
the suburbs of that secret place,
revealed unto my eye.

No lips could long resist such fare,
and yet, before they start,
the wind has blown your legs more bare,
and moved them quite apart.

Those filaments, almost unseen,
along the inside thigh,
now frame the finest haute cuisine,
to meet a mortal eye.

How one could spend a lifetime, while
he savored such a dish:
such flavors flawlessly beguile
and accent every wish.

Bestowing thus, a soul’s caress,
to set aside your pain:
is tenderness, I must confess,
I never can explain.

Some wounds, from out-side in must heal
and others in-side out.
Now, to the fates I will appeal
that we should stick it out.

Reflections we share of this time,
will live through ages' span:
no revelation so sublime
since first this world began.

Sweet nectar from the depths, well plumbed,
gave every drop, well savored,
the temptress’ call, when I succumbed:
so rich and fully flavored.

Keep me embedded in your soul,
oh queen of all temptation.
May my brand saturate the whole,
and serve as compensation.